Eye of the Storm
by pillowrabbit
Summary: It has been exactly two years since Ashley stumbled back home after her disappearance. Whenever her best friend, Sam, would ask her, she would just say that she had been kidnapped. But no matter how much Sam tries, she can't shake off the feeling that there's something more to Ashley's story...until the forest calls her and she has no choice but to live a story of her own. SEQUEL.
1. Prologue

**Before you read any further, know that this is a sequel to my other story, "Don't Be Afraid to Fly". Just clearing up any confusions in case you didn't know.**

PROLOGUE

The moon casted an eerie glow on the surface of the shimmering pool. Next to it, trailing its leaves in the water, the Tree of Promise sat stone-faced and hunched. The beautiful azure glow that had serenaded it was gone, and now the branches were as brittle as twigs. The leaves seemed have lost their glossy appearance, and despite the strong gusts of wind, it lay limp and almost lifeless, like an old woman hunched up in her shawl.

As the leaves dragged on the surface of the water, the Moonpool rippled, as if asking what was wrong. The Tree was silent, outlined by the silver moon.

Two feline shapes slinked out of the shadows and paused to crouch down next to the Pool, staring at their reflections in the calm waters. They were quiet, and glanced at each other, as if daring the other to speak first.

Finally, the ginger tom opened his mouth.

"The Tree is dying," he said, and the she-cat shivered, for she knew it was true.

"How can it be," she whispered. The Moonpool rippled again.

The ginger tom, with eyes as green as Newleaf, stood up and traced the bark with his paw. He lifted his head up and closed his eyes. "The stars have foretold it," he meowed. "A storm will come. A storm greater than any other, with lightning crackling in its belly and its claws as powerful as the winds."

"And this storm?" the other cat mewed. Her blue-grey fur caught the light of the moon so that the stars in her pelt glimmered like fish scales. "When will she come?"

"Soon," Firestar replied. "Very soon."

"And Shadefrost? Don't tell me you've forgotten about her?"

Firestar blinked. "Of course I haven't forgotten. How could I? But this storm…may be even greater than her."

And the Moonpool rippled once again, and it seemed to shiver.

OooOoooOoooooooooooooooooooOOOoOoooOOOOooo

By the light of the half moon, the medicine cats were making their way to share tongues with StarClan. Aspenheart lagged behind her mentor, pausing every so often to stare in fascination at a firefly or a cricket.

Willowshine stared fondly at the stars. "Mothwing loved the stars," she mewed. "She would stare up at them every night, after that battle with the Dark Forest, so long ago."

Kestrelflight blinked at her fondly. "You still think of her." He turned his head back and called, "Aspenheart, hurry up! Pick up the pace!"

The lush grass wavered in the calm, summer night air. The skies were clear.

"Have you had that dream?  
"What dream?"

"That dream where…"

"_That _dream?"

"The storm with lightning in its heart…"

Suddenly, without warning, a figure darted out from the bushes. The cats immediately arched their backs and hissed, unsure of what to make of this sudden intruder.

The shadow shifted, and a thin and wiry vixen stepped into view. A limp rabbit dangled from her jaws.

"Great StarClan, Ember!" ShadowClan's medicine cat, Brokenwing, fluffed up his fur. "You gave me a fright!"

"What are you doing out of the ThunderClan borders?" Aspenheart asked curiously.

Jayfeather rolled his eyes. "I doubt it would matter. Ember's not really a cat, so the warrior code might not apply to her."

The fox's fur began to bristle dangerously. "I am a ThunderClan warrior!" she growled.

"Alright, alright, keep your fur on," the tom grunted.

Ember glared at him and picked up the rabbit she had caught, and then started off down the slope of WindClan territory, toward the direction of ThunderClan.

OooOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOOooOOOoOOoOooOOOoOooO

The kits were begging to hear a story.

"Please?" Silverkit whined. "Just one more before we go to bed?"

"Just let me sleep," Frostfire grumbled. "Purdy, you deal with them." The grumpy elder shifted so that her back was toward them.

Purdy chuckled, his whiskers short and bristled and his fur as tangled as ever. "Don't mind her temper, kits. And, in fact, I do have a story to tell to a lot like you."

Scorchkit's green eyes were large and round. "Really?"

"It's about Shadefrost."

Silverkit squealed. "The Guardian of the Lake! Tell us about her! Please, oh please!" Her blue eyes glittered with excitement as she pressed closer to the elder.

Wolfkit, the oldest and most mature one, nodded as well.

His voice was old and cracked. "A long time ago, a black cat suddenly came to ThunderClan. Nobody knew who the young un was, or where she had come from, only that her name was Shadefrost. She trained to be a warrior, and she was powerful too. She could kill an adder with a single swipe of her claw. She could take on a badger three times as big as herself." He puffed out his chest and batted at the air, aiming at a make-believe enemy. "And she was a hero, too. You ever heard of heroes? They've got hearts of gold, yes they do. She saved the Clans. She did. And to this day, her name still rings around all four of the Clans. Legend has it, the day she left, a tree grew next to the Moonpool. The Tree of Promise, to mark her legacy so that she lives forever."

"Come now, Purdy, it wasn't _that _long ago." The kits turned around with a gasp of surprise to see that Dewstep was sitting near the entrance with his tail curled around his paws. "You tell her story as if she lived a lifetime away."

The elder stared at him sleepily out of half-closed eyes. "It certainly seems like a lifetime ago." He chuckled, and yawned. "Who knows if…the young un will ever come back."

Dewstep's amber eyes flashed. "She _will _come back! She promised me!"

"Keep yer fur on, youngster," he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure she will. StarClan knows, maybe I still remember what she looks like with this old brain of mine—"

Silverkit gasped in wonder. "You met the great Shadefrost?"

"Of course I have," Purdy mewed. "But no one knows her better than Dewstep and Ember, and what was that other cat's name? The un with the spots? Spottedblaze, that's right."

The kits immediately scrambled over to Dewstep.

"You were friends with Shadefrost?" Scorchkit asked in awe. "Wow."

Dewstep ducked in embarrassment.

The crunching of approaching pawsteps could be heard, and then Ember leaned into the den with a rabbit hanging from her jaws.

"Ember!" the kits mewled with glee, and she nuzzled them.

"I thought you might need something to eat before you go to sleep," she explained.

Scorchkit pouted. "But we're not even tired!"

Ember raised an eyebrow and pointed to Wolfkit. The pale grey she-kit was already snoring away in the corner.

Silverkit shrugged. "Not _that _tired, at least," she muttered. She yawned, and the fox began herding the kittens back into the nursery. Purdy was already snoring loud enough to wake the dead. His old bones rattled in his sleep.

Silverkit murmured sleepily, "You think that _I _could meet Shadefrost one day?" She said the name carefully and with wonder, as if it was a prized and valuable jewel.

Dewstep replied, "Maybe one day, you will."

He looked up at the night sky studded with white stars, and wondered if Shadefrost could be looking up at them right now. His amber eyes narrowed, and then he lumbered off into the warriors den.

**Note: Silverkit, Scorchkit, and Wolfkit are **_**not **_**Dewstep's kits. He doesn't have any kits right now.**

**Hope you enjoy the rest!**


	2. Chapter 1-My Name is Samantha Piper

CHAPTER 1-My Name is Samantha Piper

I'd thought I'd never see Ashley again. She was gone for one year; just gone, without a trace.

Everyone panicked, and the police got involved, and I'd lie awake at night and stare up at the ceiling, wondering where she was or if she was safe. I imagined her lost somewhere. I never thought I'd…

It was the night of late summer, when the cicadas were as loud and annoying as ever and I'd stick my head out the window to yell at the crickets to shut up. And then I shuffled back onto the couch and sprawled out against the cushions, limp and lazy like a worm. The room was dark, save for the blue glow coming out of the T.V.

The rest of the house was asleep. I was still wide awake. The green numbers of the clock in the kitchen read 12:15.

There weren't any good shows on. Nothing but boring cartoons, lame jokes, and a few episodes were SpongeBob was annoying the eff out of his neighbor. I flicked through the channels, not really caring what I'd find. There were celebrities with too much eye-liner and sparkly lip gloss, insisting that they were the best, insisting that the best songs came from the soul.

Nothing interesting on except for this load of crap.

The phone was still ringing, and I reluctantly heaved myself to my feet and dragged myself over to it. It was a call from Ashley's parents.

My sleep-deprived eyes widened in surprise. My hand tightened around the phone, and for just a few minutes, I could ignore the racket of the outside world and focus on the voice chattering on the other line, telling me that the stars had come out tonight.

OoOoOoOoOooOooooooooooooooOoOOOOoooooOOOOOoOOoOOo

When I see her for the first time after she came back, I look at everything about her. Black hair, grown longer for the past year so that it hung down at her waist. Messy and tangled. Scratches and tiny scars from who-knows-what on her legs and arms. Clothes are borrowed, baggy and three sizes too big for her. She's thinner than I remembered. Lighter, like she hasn't eaten.

But then she smiles widely when she sees me and wraps me into her tight arms, crushing me in her infamous bear hug so that I can hardly breathe. And then I relax. Those dark brown eyes are the same. They are Ashley's and no one else's.

"Where ya been, girl?" I ask, mussing up her hair. "How long has it been? A year? And you didn't even send me a postcard."

"Kidnapped," she mumbled into my shoulder. "I escaped."

But even though her parents and my parents and the police all believe her, I still don't. There's something she doesn't want me to know.

It frustrates me so much, that she won't tell me. But I'll find out. One day, I will…

OoOoOOoooOooOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOoooOOOoo

Nothing's really changed much. We've been friends since the fourth grade.

She hasn't changed at all, the same Ashley that I knew. She was shy around my other friends and relatives when they came over to visit, but she was goofy and idiotic when we were alone.

When we walked to the Seven Eleven in the afternoon summer heat, I bought her a soda and an ice cream cone, and for me, donuts and a candy bar.

Her eyes widened in wonder when she unwrapped the ice cream.

"Sam!" she said, whirling around to face me. "Look at it! It looks so perfect!"

I raised an eyebrow and mused.

"We should take a picture of it," she continued, holding it in her hands like it was some sort of holy thing.

I laughed. "Idiot. Come on, get to the shade before it melts."

And the evenings when she would come over and visit were the best. That way, I wouldn't have to listen to my parents slamming doors and my older brother arguing with them.

Engelbreit purred and weaved in and out of Ashley's legs as she leaned against the patio, drink in hand and the stars reflected in her eyes. The ice cubes tinkled against the glass.

And even though I knew she was the same person that I had always known, she was different somehow. Sometimes I caught her staring away into space, probably daydreaming or something, and once or twice, she would sit down on the grass below the wide stretch of the night and make small talk with the cat.

OooOoOoOOOoOooOoOoOoOoOooooOOooOoOOoooooooooooo

And, just like that, the two years passed easily. We no longer talked about her disappearance; the police had stopped questioning her and were focused on more important things, like finding the dude who had kidnapped her. Ashley soon became readjusted to civilization. My life stayed the same.

Daily schedule as followed:

Wake up at ten in the morning, bags under eyes, sleepy and grouchy.

Skip breakfast. Nothing good in the fridge anyway.

Listen to parents fight. Note to self: buy a pair of ear plugs.

Spend the rest of the day lounging on the sofa and see if the next episodes of the new show have come out yet.

Skim through phone and iPad.

The annoying insurance lady with the nasally voice checks up more frequently now. Ignore her phone calls and spam.

My life was regularly dull and regularly spent living as a couch potato.

Except...today, at least, was a little bit different. A change in schedule.

With hands in pockets, I made my way to the café down the street, eager and with an extra skip to my steps.

I hadn't seen him in a long time.

He was standing there, leaning against one of the café tables with his gaze intent on his phone.

I waved to him as I neared. He perked up, said a few last words, and then shoved the phone back into his pockets. He waved back.

"So where do you wanna go?" I asked brightly. "The theater, or the park? Or maybe graffiti some stuff and trespass into private land—"

"Park sounds nice. Let's go."

I offered him my hand, but he ignored it and started walking. I caught up with him and strolled by his side.

The squirrels chattered and fled up the trees. A boy was playing Frisbee with his dog, throwing and throwing it again while the hound chased after it. Several kids were building a mound of sand in the playground. It kept crumbling into dust.

We chose a stone bench and sat down on it. I crossed my legs and felt the grainy texture of the granite with my hand.

One of the kids started crying, having gotten sand in his eyes.

I turned toward the tall figure sitting next to me. The sun casted rays across his blonde hair, and his blue eyes were fixed on his phone again. He was slouched, his posture was bad, but so was mine.

"So…we haven't seen each other in a long time," I began.

"Mmph," he replied, which could have meant anything.

"You still text me, though."

He didn't answer this time, and suddenly, I knew.

It struck me like a blow across the face. He wouldn't be the first one. They had all left me, in the end.

But he…he felt special, better than the rest. I loved him.

But he didn't love me back. All of the past months that I had spent with him evaporated like a puddle in the merciless sun.

He rubbed his neck and cleared his throat. "So, um…I was thinking that…"

I nodded. I understood.

He continued awkwardly, struggling to find the right words. "We can still, like, hang out sometime."

I suddenly stiffened, and spat, "If you hate me, just say it."

He sighed in exasperation, as if he was dealing with an ignorant little brat. "Look, Sam, I know how you feel about me, but we really aren't cut out for each other, you know? It's time we moved on."

The words broke me and tore me inside out. I stood up, my eyes hidden beneath my curly russet mop of hair, and trudged stiffly away, my hands clenched into fists.

"It's fine," I yelled back. "Perfectly fine. I understand."

I expected him to run after me and call my name, but he didn't. Without turning my head, I heard him walk away in the opposite direction.

That jerk. Didn't he know how much he broke my heart?

I did not let the tears fall. I wasn't a little girl. Strong people didn't cry, no matter what happened.

OoOOoOOOOoOoOOoOOOoOoooooOooOOoOoO

The idiots from the neighbors' house across the street were taunting me again. They jeered and made faces at me.

"Sam-an-tha!" they chanted. "Come on, catch us if you can!" Darn those bucktoothed kids. They made my blood boil.

On my usual schedule, I would just stick my tongue out at them and wave my fist. That usually drove them off.

But today was not one of those days.

Picking up a pebble, I chucked it at one of them. It missed him by a wide angle, and it only made them laugh harder. They bayed and squawked.

_Like a bunch of mules, _I thought angrily. I planned to stop and scare them off, but right then, the woman across the street opened her front door and began to sweep the steps. I looked away and pretended nothing happened.

OoOoooOooOoOoOoOOOooooooooOOoOoOooOOooOoOOOoo

I stared up at the ceiling on the couch, counting the cracks.

I decided to phone Ashley.

"Hey," the voice on the line answered.

"Hey. You busy today?"

"Ummmmm…not especially." Then, as if she detected the emotion at the back of my throat, she asked suddenly, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yep," I lied. "Wanna come over?"

"Sure."

OoOOoOoOOOoOOOOooOoOooooooooooooOoOoOOOoOo

The sun was sinking below the horizon.

We sunbathed ourselves on the patio in the last of the rays, clad in nothing but swimming suits. The pool was big enough for two.

I couldn't help but eye the scar that started from her shoulder and wound all the way down to her hip, like a pale, thin snake. It was a nasty mark that seemed to cut her skin in half.

"Did the kidnapper do that to you?" I asked.

"Hm?" She was daydreaming again. The doofus. "Oh, yeah."

Lies.

She began to chatter away at something else, but I wasn't listening. I laid my head back and stared up at the darkening sky.

People lied to me all the time. My mom, when Dad had slammed the door after a particularly bad argument, with cursing streaming from their mouths.

"Everything's fine," she would say, but the look on her face said something else. And she would snap at me and tell me to stop worrying and caring so much.

My Dad was hanging on to her by only a thin string. One strong yank was all it would take to tear it in half. Most of the time, when he didn't have anything else to do, he'd splay out on the couch and look half-dead. Like me.

And the counselors would blink at me fondly as I fidgeted in the clammy seats.

"It was a pleasure meeting you today," they all said, but I knew it wasn't true. I was Samantha Piper, narrow-hipped and thin, with a boyish cut of wavy brown hair and dark skin and green eyes. No one special. No one outstanding.

Sometimes I wished I was someone else whenever I stared at my pathetic grades. Someone better. Someone who was loved back by her boyfriend and whose parents didn't fight all the time.

"Sam?" Ashley said, and I snapped to attention.

"What is it?" I asked, a little too harshly.

She winced. "It's getting dark. We should head inside."

I nodded, and we gathered up the towels, dried ourselves off, changed, and then watched some boring channels on T.V.

OoOoOOoOoOooOOOooooOOOoOOoOOooOooOOOO

The clock in the kitchen read 10:30. Ashley was already looking like she was going to clonk out any second now. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

I was wide awake as always.

Something flitted out of the corner of my eye, something silvery and grey. I only imagined it, I told myself. I saw things all the time.

Ashley, however, sat up. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and murmured, "I need to go outside for a minute. Stargazing." She stumbled out of the couch, flailing her arms wildly as she tripped on the sheets. I stifled a laugh.

She lurched out the sliding door and disappeared into the backyard.

I breathed through my nose and glanced around the room. The bookshelf in the corner caught my eye. The white moonlight shone and gleamed on one tattered and torn old book, the letters almost faded.

A Warriors book. I hadn't read it in such a long time.

I didn't even read all the books. I had wanted to. How did Firestar lead his Clan? Did Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf save the cats?

I didn't know. And I wasn't interested anymore.

Engelbreit meowed and leaped onto my lap. I scratched his ears. What would it feel like to be a cat?

It would be absolutely awesome, I thought. I smiled. I'd get built-in weapons in my paws, and night vision. And if I were a cat, I could leave this dump behind and go searching for a life to live, where I wouldn't see the disapproving glares of my teachers and hear the shouting of my parents.

That reminded me. Ashley was taking a bit too long. Had she fallen asleep outside? The klutz. She must have, and she was way too heavy for me to drag her back inside.

I sighed, and pushed Engelbreit out of my lap. Trudging heavily outside, I breathed in the cool night air and stopped when I heard someone talking.

Ashley was crouching next to something. I quickly dove behind the wall, and listened intently. Who was she talking to?

"What do you mean?" She actually sounded angry.

A pause.

"But I can always go back! Why do you need Sam?"

Me? I craned my neck forward.

A red cat was seated in front of her, his green eyes calm. A stray? I'd never seen him before. And the weird thing was, numerous white and silver things seemed to shimmer from his paws and fur. Were those _stars?_

Ashley glanced at me and straightened up.

A shaky laugh. "Oh, hi Sam. I didn't see you there. Let's go back."

"No."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Clenching my fists, I walked right up to her and stared into her face.

My gaze flickered to the cat, and I realized that he had vanished.

But I had made up my mind now. I had to know the truth.

"You didn't get kidnapped," I muttered. "Where did you go?"

"I—uh,well…" She shifted uncomfortably. I backed away to give her some space.

"Well, you know, Sam," she murmured quietly, fiddling with her fingers. She didn't meet my gaze. "You know the Warriors?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Well…" she exhaled a deep breath. "They're real."

I almost laughed, but stopped when I realized that she was actually serious.

Warrior cats? Real? The sleep was muddling her thoughts.

I was right after all, as she suddenly broke into a grin. "Yeah, I had a dream about them." She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Sleep," she announced, and stumbled back inside. I sighed, and followed her. I'd ask her again in the morning.

Oh well. We snuggled back onto the sofa. I guess…that it was okay for Ashley to lie to me. She was my best friend, after all. And a good friend. I should let her off the hook, I thought, as the warm waves of sleep began to engulf me. I curled up in my little boat and drifted out to sea.

OooooooOoOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOooOOOoOOOOO

I was walking along a lonely path that wound through the neighborhood. It glimmered and twitched, and I realized with a start that the path was actually the long body of a snake. The scales clinked like coins.

A man with a rifle in his hand saluted me and said, "The road goes down that way," and he nodded up at the sky.

I knew just what to say. "I will meet with the crow at the parlor shop," I replied, and strolled across the writhing serpent body.

Only then did I realize I was dreaming. A long, glittering staircase made of stars extended from the ground toward the heavens, and I took it.

Wait, this was a dream, wasn't it? I tried to will myself to fly. I leaped a few feet off the ground, but that was it.

The stars underfoot were brittle and crunched like soft snow, like I was walking on light bulbs.

A few of the boys were jeering and pointing. "Sam-an-tha!"

I reached for a pebble, and found there were none. The staircase expanded. Soon, it had disappeared and I was balancing on nothing but a thin ribbon of silver. Everything else was black and empty. Everything else had faded away.

Suddenly, I was falling. When did I lose my balance? I passed an upside-down man playing a broken piano, and a mouse fishing for the moon. Engelbreit was meowing. The boys were laughing again.

Everything spun and whirled into a dizzying spiral, and I closed my eyes as the ground flew up from under me, and suddenly I was tumbling head-over-heels like a limp ragdoll, with no ground to land on. With a bright, exploding white flash of pain, I shattered into a million pieces at the bottom, and then I knew no more.

**Note: Don't worry, Shadefrost will definitely come back to the Clans.**


	3. Chapter 2-Far From Home

CHAPTER 2-Far From Home

I had a pounding headache that throbbed at my temples, and my arms felt limp and numb. My eyes were practically glued shut, and I struggled with a flicker of panic to pry them open.

Wait a minute…why did my sofa smell so musty? Like…spices?

Moaning, I squinted open my eyes, and was greeted by two large, blue pupils staring at me just centimeters from my face.

"The heck?!" I yelled, leaping to my feet. I stumbled and fell back onto a dizzy heap on the floor…er, ground? Where was I?

Pulling myself up, I gasped, "What—who?!" Was I in a cave of some sort?

Heart thudding wildly, I flicked my gaze from one corner to the next. It was dark in here, and the air was thick and warm and smelled of garlic and herbs—why did everything look so big, like I had shrunk overnight?

I groaned from the headache and pressed my hand up to my forehead, but quickly snapped my eyes open again when I brushed against something soft.

I stared at myself in surprise, then shock, then horror. I had paws; four furry paws! And a tail that I could wave, and when I gingerly reached up, I felt pointed ears sticking from the top of my head. My short fur was a mixture of dark red and black blotches, mottled and patched together into some sort of cluttered soup.

Just as my heart was rising into a frenzy and I was starting to hyperventilate, a soft voice asked, "Um, are you okay?"

I whirled around, my eyes wide and unfocused.

A small cat was crouched in front of me, a cat with light grey tabby fur and big blue eyes.

She jumped and perked her ears up, and it actually looked like she was _smiling._

"Hello!" she chirped happily.

Whoa, whoa, this was going a bit too fast for me. Did that cat just…talk?

I felt light-headed. What was going _on?_

I stumbled on my paws and nearly fell again. Her blue eyes grew concerned. "You look…tired," she meowed. "Should I get Jayfeather?"

J-Jayfeather?! Wasn't he the tom in the Warriors book?

"What's all the commotion in here?" a hard-chipped voice asked, and another cat trudged into the room. His dull blue eyes stared unblinkingly into space, as if he were blind.

Hold on…it couldn't be….

A lithe tan feline trailed after him, and she would look almost beautiful if it weren't for the hind legs that made her imperfect. They looked heavy and limp, and she had to drag herself after the tom.

My worst fears have come true. Wait, fears? I was a cat, I should be happy! This was supposed to be a dream come true!

Another bout of nausea struck a dizzying blow to my muddled brain, and I decided that I needed somewhere quiet to think.

"Ah, so you're awake," Jayfeather mewed. His eyes turned stern. "You shouldn't be walking around if you're injured."

Backing away from him as if he was some sort of demon, I shook my head and muttered, "Y-you're not—not real."

All three cats looked startled. When did I get so good at reading feline emotions? Half of the time at home, I couldn't even tell what Engelbreit wanted…

Briarlight dragged herself a few feet toward me, and I cowered, feeling so impossibly tiny and vulnerable.

"There, there," she cooed gently. "We'll fix you up. Just lie down on the moss and rest for a while."

I was trembling—why was I trembling? Or was I shivering because it was so hot?

I pawed my muzzle and whimpered, not really knowing what was happening. The incoherent thoughts whirled around my brain and shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

"No…stop!" I barged my way past them and hurried out the den, toward the sunlight.

"Wait!" the small grey tabby called after me, but I didn't want to have anything to do with her. With _any _of them.

I burst out of the den and skidded to a halt as my attention reeled with amazement. There were cats _everywhere: _sunning themselves outside of the numerous dens, chatting with the others, play-fighting, or nursing kits. This was like a scene straight out of Warriors!

This had to be some really messed up dream. How high was I before I clonked out yesterday night?

Ignoring their bewildered looks, I sped past them, nearly tripping and landing on my face, and hastened toward the opening in the gorse wall. Tearing free from the tendrils that yanked at my legs and tail, I jerked out of the camp and made a mad dash toward the sanctuary of the forest.

Shadows bloomed and patches of warm, buttery sunlight mottled the grass as I hurried to and fro, not really knowing or caring where I went.

It was quiet here, save for the melodies of the invisible birds. The undergrowth wriggled and teemed with life and tiny beings. A wind blew, ruffling the branches, and soared off into the distance. The air was cool and refreshing. It was peaceful here, and there was nobody around but me.

I slowed to a jog. _Come on, Sam. Think, _I hissed to myself. Okay, okay, think back to what happened last night.

I was curled up on the sofa with the blanket, and Ashley was snoring gently next to me. I had fallen asleep; I must have. And then…and then I saw a cat. Two cats, one a fiery orange and the other a calm blue-grey, and their eyes bored into my soul and they squinted, as if they were calculating me. But I remembered feeling so relaxed. I was drifting in a black void, when out of the blue, a huge rush of white stars hurled out of nowhere and carried me up and up to God knows where…

And then I ended up here? But the warriors were absolutely, positively not real!

A small voice in my head asked, _Then how do you explain this?_

I shook my head. "It's all just a dream," I growled.

But this felt too real to be a mere dream. I saw spots in my vision, and I turned hot and cold and tingly all over.

So, I was a cat now. I lifted up my paw and studied it. I could hardly believe it, but everything was right there in front of me. The spots of sun mottled my tortoiseshell coat and I stretched, feeling the warmth spread to my bones like milk.

Voices were calling to me from the trees. Leaping to my paws, I swerved past the fallen logs, away from the others. My heart beat with a passion, as if to a rhythm of music, and the blood rushed through my ears. My veins ran with the feeling of independence, of pure joy; I was free at last! No schools, no homework, no bullies and no listening to the arguing of my parents!

With a laugh, I flung myself down a slope and rolled to the bottom like a fat, furry egg. The grass tickled my nose.

The sky was as blue as ever, like an azure diamond, and the plants were greener than green. How strange; I had never noticed it before. How beautiful the world looked from here; it almost tore my breath away.

I stretched out on the grass, content to just lie here for the rest of the day. The sun was in the middle of the great expanse of blue, and it hovered above me lazily like a giant bee.

I closed my eyes to the feeling of the breeze stroking my cheek and its crisp whispering in my ear.

A scent unexpectedly invaded my nose. It was weird, how I could suddenly smell better now. Sitting up, I curled my tail into a question mark as I sniffed the scent blowing on the wind.

More cats were coming. I sighed. The sun had lulled me into sleepiness, and I didn't feel like running anymore.

In the distance, three feline shapes were hurtling toward me like meteors, and they looked absolutely _furious. _They practically looked like _tigers: _their claws were out and gleaming and they had a murderous look in their hostile gazes.

With a yelp, I leaped to my paws and tried to dash back to the safety of the forest, but they were on me like lightning.

The bristling cats surrounded me and hissed. Instinctively, I crouched down and curled my tail protectively around my body, and hissed back.

"A rogue," one of the brutes mused. "What do you suppose we should do with her, Harespring?"

The small, white one snickered. "We should teach lowly rogues like her not to trespass onto WindClan territory!"

My hackles began to rise. Who did these idiots think they were?

"Hey!" I protested, putting on a brave face. "I'm not a lowly rogue! My name is Sam."

Harespring growled, "It doesn't matter to us. The point is that you're standing where you shouldn't."

I began to back away nervously, my anger suddenly dying away. "W-well I didn't know."

They glared at me dangerously and stalked toward me as I edged away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a nearby tree with its bark flaking into dry pieces.

My gaze flickered from here to there, and before I knew what I was even doing, I flung myself to the side and sank my claws into the wood, grappling desperately for a secure hold as I scrabbled my way up the tree.

They yowled in rage and tore after me, but I was already safe on top of the highest branch.

It creaked dangerously, but I only sank my claws in deeper.

The patrol of WindClan cats glowered at me and pawed at the trunk in frustration. Their mutterings were music to my ears.

"Hah!" I crowed down at them triumphantly. "Can't get me now! Losers!"

"You just wait, you little piece of fox dung!"

"I'm going to rip your ears off!"

Their insults made me tighten my grip on the branch, but at least I was safe up here.

Breathing a sweet sigh of relief, I relaxed my muscles. Unfortunately, the wind rocked my perch to and fro so that I was always in danger of falling.

The trio had curiously grown silent. I peered down at what they were doing.

"Done sulking yet?" I meowed. "There's no point. Just run back to where you came from."

"I'd say the same for you," a smug voice replied. It sounded so close to where I was sitting that I nearly jumped out of my skin in fright.

My hind leg slipped. With my heart beating up to my throat, I quickly scrambled for a secure hold and wrapped the quivering branch with both of my arms. That was a close one.

"Hey!" I barked.

The warriors were flinging up their hind legs and kicking the trunk with all of the strength they could muster. The tree wobbled and bent as they tried to knock me off the perch. A few leaves floated down.

Harespring had a tight hold on the bark and was now slowly but surely climbing up toward me, inch by agonizing inch.

"You'd better say your prayers, rogue," he smirked.

By now, I was too terrified to spit back an insult. What was he going to do to me? Knock me to the ground and wring my neck?

For a heartbeat, I longed to return to my house, where I could dive down under the covers and be safe.

He was now so close that I could see the angry glint of his claws in the sun. The tree was shaking more now, like me.

I wanted to cry out for help, but shrank back at the thought of how pathetic I would look. Come on! Wasn't there anyone out there who was kind enough to lend a helping hand?

A male voice suddenly yowled, "Stop!"

All of us snapped to attention as a shape came blundering through the woods. The ginger and white tabby was plunging toward us at full speed, his amber eyes intent on the WindClan cats.

"You're on ThunderClan territory!" he meowed in a voice that spoke of command and authority, although he couldn't be older than an apprentice.

Harespring snapped, "What do you want?"

"You've stepped over the border. You should get a move on before I have to chase you off."

I marveled at how this apprentice spoke so calmly, although my paws were itching to spring off and hide somewhere safe.

One of the WindClan cats looked at his paws and said, "He's right."

Harespring swung his head around and glared. Finally, he unhooked his claws from the tree, although he didn't look like he was going to leave anytime soon.

He towered over the apprentice. The ThunderClan cat showed no fear at all, and only gave an impatient twitch of his tail.

"If you don't leave soon," he warned. "I'm going to have to call Bramblestar over. And you know how he just _loves _trespassers."

The two other WindClan cats visibly shuddered and meowed, "Really, Harespring, we should get going now. Fun's over."

Harespring glowered at his friends, and opened his mouth to say something.

But then he shut it again, and growled, "Just don't get in our way," and trotted off to his side of the land with an indignant huff.

When they were gone, the ThunderClan apprentice said, "You can come down now."

"Oh." I shrank deeper among the leaves to hide my embarrassment. "Th-thanks for saving me there."

"No problem," he answered, and smiled. "My name is Scorchpaw. I was out hunting for my mentor, although I didn't catch anything." The tip of his tail twitched. "The prey is so jittery this morning. So who're you?"

"Sam. Samantha."

"Samantha?"

I nodded.

He looked up at me from the ground. "What are you waiting for? Are you coming down?"

"There's just…one little problem."

"What is it?"

I hid my face. "I don't know how to climb down."

OOooOoooOOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOoOOooooOoO

Jayfeather grunted as he lapped the herb poultice onto a small cut on my paw while I tried not to flinch away. "There. That's the only injury there is." He sat back and observed his handiwork. "Why did you run away?"

"It's like you've never seen cats before," Briarlight joked mildly.

I drew my paw back and studied it, and muttered, "I've never met cats that could talk."

Scorchpaw tipped his head to one side. "That's a bit weird to say. Where have you been living?"

"Nowhere special," I mumbled.

My eyes flashed, and I sat up. "And another thing. You guys aren't even supposed to be real!"

Another confused look from all three of them. "What?"

I glanced down and sighed. "You know what, it's nothing."

Jayfeather's ears flicked as someone entered the den. "Bramblestar has come to see you," he explained.

Bramblestar? He meant Brambleclaw, right? Or did Firestar die already? I regretted not reading the rest of the series.

The dark brown tom was muscular and broad-shouldered; his amber eyes were deep and piercing and his mouth was set in a grim line. If any cat was worthy and powerful enough to be the great Tigerstar's son, Bramblestar was definitely it.

He dipped his head, and I awkwardly nodded in return. "Greetings," he rumbled. He blinked as he gazed at me up and down. "My warriors found you unconscious at the edge of our territory this morning. I was wondering; where did you come from?"

For some reason, I wanted to keep my human roots and past as a secret. Animal instincts I guess, where I knew what was wrong and what was right, and knew just when things were supposed to happen.

I told him that I was just a wandering loner. The answer seemed to satisfy him, and he heaved himself to his paws.

"I've been wondering," he mewed. "Since you're a loner, you've got nowhere else to go. Why not join ThunderClan?"

I nearly shot out of my nest. _That _got my attention.

"Y-you mean it?" I gasped. My eyes grew wide in surprise as my heart thudded quickly against my chest.

"Of course," he rumbled. "We could always manage a new apprentice."

I stood frozen for the next few seconds, the thoughts in my head whirling so fast that I couldn't read them all. It was a tornado of emotions.

Finally, when I came to my senses, I realized that my jaw was slightly agape, and I closed it.

I gave a barely perceptible nod, and leaned back against the soft moss.

OoOOOOoOoOOooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooOooOooOOOoo

The trees and the grass swayed together in the wind and in harmony. The birds warbled endlessly among the shadows of the leaves, and the cerulean sky was infinite and boundless. I gazed up at it, thinking about everything and how I got here.

I was free at last; free as the birds! I didn't have to hear the endless bickering of my parents. A new life awaited me.

What were they doing back home? Did they notice I was gone.

And what would Ashley say?

I quickly pushed the nagging doubt further back into the deepest reaches of my mind and buried it under memories. My other life was over. I was starting anew.

I was going to be a warrior!

I sat up on my hind legs and stretched my arms apart, as far as they would go, as if I wanted to hug the whole world.

"It's mine," I mewed, to the trees, to the grass, to no one in particular. "All mine."


	4. Chapter 3-Broken Vessel

CHAPTER 3-Broken Vessel

The clearing was as silent as a warm, midsummer afternoon. Countless faces stared expectantly up at me with yellow, green, and blue glowing eyes. A black butterfly flitted pleasantly through the dappled center of the clearing, but the butterflies of my own kept tangling and writhing inside my stomach.

"From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Stormpaw," Bramblestar's booming voice echoed around the group of cats like a bronze bell. Each and every word was clear and crisp, as he had said the same exact words many sunrises ago. It astonished me, how he could look so ecstatic and alert even though he had gone through the apprentice ceremonies so many times that he now knew the whole thing by heart. If I were leader and was forced to recite the matching lines every six moons, I'd be clawing my hair out with boredom by saying the same things over and over again. It was just so boring.

Was this what it was like to be leader? Sitting up in the throne above everyone else, giving speeches, talking words, talking the same old, same exact words with no change and no stopping, season after season after season?

I stared down nervously at the crowd below us. They all gazed back at me expectantly, some with bored looks, others with kind smiles. I searched through the sea, peering closely at their faces, wondering what kind of a person my mentor was going to be. I hoped he was someone I read about in the books, not just a random old stranger.

What if he was like all my other teachers?! I imagined myself sitting in my desk in detention for the fourth time that month, the wrinkly prune teacher squinting and eyeing me closely from her desk to make sure I didn't do anything other than sit there and stare dully at the whiteboard. She had a mouth all puckered up, like she had just bit into something sour. Sinking my claws into the ledge, I shook my head and winced. No, training to be a warrior was definitely going to be more exciting than algebra two! Stop being so paranoid, Sam. Oh great, now I'm talking to myself.

Bramblestar's bronze voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Your mentor will be Dewstep. I hope he passes down all he knows to you."

Pawsteps crunched in the dirt behind me. I perked up my ears and turned around slowly, and regarded the bedraggled grey tom standing there. He shifted from one paw to the other, and his dull amber eyes stared at something that was not me. Dozens of battle scars crisscrossed his pelt, pink where the fur hadn't grown back. His ears were little more than shreds. He didn't look like some heroic, fairy tale prince at all. He looked like a ruin, like a soldier with way too many chinks in his armor and who now stood in a forgotten little corner, too small and tiny to be of any good use. He was a broken. I guess, if I thought about it, he looked a lot like me when I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. We were both the same, and that was terrible.

I blinked at him, my excitement turning into withered disappointment, and looked away. I was hoping that my mentor would be someone awesome, like Lionblaze or Brightheart, not this castaway cat that looked as exciting as a rock. I could tell he wasn't too thrilled to be with me either.

As we stood next to each other awkwardly, the clan chanted, "Stormpaw, Stormpaw!"

Stormpaw. The name felt as sweet as honey on my tongue, when suddenly I felt a pang of fear as cold and raw as ice. I fluffed up my fur and shook myself furiously. Why was I such a scaredy-cat?

"Your training as a warrior begins today," Dewstep announced as he bounded off of the Highledge. His long legs covered a lot of ground in one stride, and he turned and waited as I quickly caught up to him. "A lot of other loners like you joined ThunderClan in the past two years, so you'll fit in fine."

My eyes gleamed as a prickle of excitement surged down my spine. "Am I going to learn some battle moves?" I wanted to meet up with Harespring again and show him just what I was made out of.

To my disappointment, he shook his head and replied, "Not today. The other apprentices and the mentors will be exploring the territory, so you'll follow along with them."

My ears flattened. Tramping around all day instead of fighting? Geez, how boring could this geezer get?

"Hey, Stormpaw." Scorchpaw nodded at me as he padded closer. The ginger patches looked like autumn leaves on his neat white fur. The small, light grey tabby she-cat from this morning bounded cheerfully at his heels like an eager kitten. I scanned myself and noticed that my pelt was messy and muddled. My cheeks burned in shame. They both looked so clean and tidy. What did they do, take a bath in the Lake every morning? Ugh.

If they noticed my dirty fur, they didn't show it.

The small she-cat's blue eyes were as bright and cloudless as the summer sky. "Hello, newbie!" she chirped. "My name's Silverpaw." I eyed her warily. Her soft grey coat was banded with darker stripes, like a handiwork of lines and parallels.

"Oh, hi," I mumbled. She looked nice enough, but people like her could also be annoying. I hoped she didn't think of me as a friend.

She looked off to the side and pointed with her tail. "That's my sister, Wolfpaw. You'll like her, I think."

I followed her gaze, hoping that I didn't seem rude. A sleek, dark grey she-cat appeared from inside a den and glanced up at the sun, screwing up her eyes and blinking at the sudden brightness. The slash of white on her chest glittered like fresh snow. Her shoulders were wide and muscular.

She caught my eye and acknowledged me with a friendly wave of her tail.

As we gathered at the center of the clearing, I jerked my head impatiently at the exit in the gorse tunnel. "What are we waiting for? Let's get going." The sooner we left, the sooner we could finish this.

Scorchpaw's mentor, Falconwind, flicked his tail with amusement across my nose. "Patience, newcomer," he purred. "One of us is still getting ready."

I growled, low enough so that no one heard. Whoever was taking this long shouldn't deserve to tag along and slow us all down.

Two cats sitting outside of a den caught my attention. The queen was licking and grooming an apprentice, but the young cat didn't look too pleased. Her mother had to wrestle her to the ground and hold her down while her tongue rasped and cleaned the long fur.

Scorchpaw leaned close to me. His breath was on my ear as he whispered, "That's Featherpaw and her mother, Ivypool."

Featherpaw rolled and wrestled, getting more dust into her pelt, before jerking free from the queen and scampering over to us. I edged away from her, but she didn't even give so much as a glimpse at my direction.

She sneezed from the sand and began licking her paw, pretending as if nothing had happened. While she was distracted, I studied her. Her white fur was speckled with spots of pale gray, so pale and invisible that I had to lean in real closely to count them. Her sharp green eyes were focused on grooming her paw. They looked like eagle eyes. I was certain that she could spot a mouse from a mile away if she tried.

Ivypool strode toward her and rasped her tongue over Featherpaw's ear. She murmured, "Stay safe, alright?"

Featherpaw got up and padded behind Falconwind and didn't answer.

Ivypool's presence here was odd. None of the other mothers scampered over here to bid good day to their apprentices.

As if sensing my confusion, Scorchpaw explained quietly, "Featherpaw isn't the only kit of her litter. Ivypool and Foxleap actually had three other kits: two were stillborn and the other was so weak that he died after a few days. Ivypool hasn't been herself since then. She's a bit overprotective, if you know what I mean."

Then, as if he had spoken too loudly, he gave his chest fur a couple of licks while averting Ivypool's concerned eyes.

Falconwind announced brightly, "Right, then. Let's go." With a wave of his tail, we followed him out of the camp.

At last! I was afraid that we would have to wait around in the clearing all day.

The forest air was crisp and warm. Sunlight dappled the leaves and my pelt, making the tortoiseshell patches look like they had blotches of bright golden in between. A butterfly flitted through the air; Silverpaw pounced, and then looked away sheepishly, hoping that no one saw her.

Dewstep mewed, "How about we start off at the Sky Oak? The apprentices will race each other there. It'll get your heart pumping and strengthen your legs."

A little jog sounded nice in the cool shade of the towering trees.

The five of us crouched down, and at Dewstep's signal, we tore our way through the undergrowth. Dirt and pebbles flew out from underneath me. My paws thudded heavily against the mossy floor.

I was in the lead at first, but slowly, one by one, they began to pass me. Wolfpaw quickly stole the lead and shot off like a rocket until I couldn't see her anymore. My breath caught in my throat as I eyed her in awe. Were her legs made out of springs?

Featherpaw caught up to me. We ran side by side for a while, until she too picked up the pace and dashed away.

The trees were blurs and the darn air wouldn't get into my heavy lungs. My paws were growing heavier and heavier until my strength was nearly drained. My breath came in short gasps.

I was desperate to be the first one there. Come on, come on! I urged my legs to move faster, but they only gave me half-hearted shrugs in reply.

Scorchpaw and Silverpaw, who had been behind me this whole time, began to pass me like the others.

I groaned through my panting gasps. Was I going to be last? My tongue felt dry and my lungs were made of fire.

Silverpaw's eyes, however, were shining like two clear, cool pools of water. "Come on!" she mewed. "Let's run together."

As the three of us jogged side-by-side, way behind everybody else, and as I was puffing and chuffing up the hill like a fat and sweaty beaver, I realized that maybe being friends with Silverpaw wouldn't be so bad after all.

OooOOooooooOOOoooooooOOooOoOOooooOoOoOOOoo

The stream gurgled merrily and chugged along like a watery train, never stopping, never ceasing. Little minnows darted among the reeds like mini arrows, and I had a sudden urge to dive in and test my luck in catching them.

The sun was smack dab in the middle of the sky. It was sweltering, and I felt weighted down by my fur jacket. If only I could shed it all away!

A loud splash sounded and I wrinkled my nose as I was suddenly showered in a swarm of glittering droplets.

Scorchpaw and Silverpaw were splashing each other like a pair of playful seals. Their wet fur glistened in the heat.

"Come on," Scorchpaw offered. He swatted a paw at my direction, sending a glittering wave cascading toward me. "Jump in. The water isn't too cold."

I didn't need any more coaxing.

"Cannon ball!" With a leap and bound and a hoot of laughter, I propelled myself off the bank and made a swan dive into the gurgling stream.

I surfaced and streaked along the shallow bottom, flicking up my tail to splash water onto Silverpaw's face. She giggled.

"Mmph," Dewstep grunted. He was hunched in the shade looking absolutely grumpy. His face suggested a crabby old man whose lawn just got overrun with a bunch of hyperactive kids.

"Stop wading around like a pack of Twolegs!" he called. "The sooner we get around the border, the sooner we can leave."

Falconwind chuckled. "Don't worry about them, Dewstep. Let them have a bit of fun. We'll leave when we've had a rest." Dewstep only grunted again and closed his eyes.

Wolfpaw was lying under the shade of an overhanging pine branch, her blue eyes half-closed and sleepy. Featherpaw was sitting farther away than everybody else. Her back was to me, but I could tell that she was dabbing her paw at something. A beetle, probably.

A wave of cold water gushing over me, knocking me out of my thoughts. I rose up to the surface, sputtering, flailing around wildly with a flash of panic before I got a firm grip of the bottom with my hind paws.

Silverpaw spat out a mouthful of water and grinned cheekily.

My eyes flashed mischievously. "Just you wait!"

With all of the strength I could muster, I bunched up my paws and heaved a huge surge of water straight at her. With a sharp squeak, she disappeared under the grey torrent that threatened to overflow the banks.

The water lapped and rose and heaved like the sighing of a great beast. I smiled, flicking drops out of my ears, marveling at how strong I was.

Scorchpaw winced and coughed. "She should be resurfacing by now." There was a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"Yeah…"

I gazed down at the stream. There was no sign of her at all. It was as if she had disappeared.

Horror suddenly opened its jaws and I stared terrifyingly into its yawning maw. What if…the current dragged her away? If she drowned?

She should have resurfaced by now! What was taking her so long?

"Silverpaw?" I whispered uncertainly. Where there should have been a hint of fur, a shadow underwater, there was none.

Dewstep padded toward us, his amber eyes stern and his ears suddenly pricked and alert.

He meowed, "What happened?" He glared austerely at the two of us. "Where's Silverpaw?"

"I-um-we—" I stammered.

Without any warning, a sleek grey head lunged out of the water, sending the stream cascading upwards and blooming like a blue blossom. Silverpaw coughed. Streams gushed out her ears like waterfalls and tiny rivulets ran down her wet fur.

She was about to say something, but our shocked and worried faces startled her for a bit. She splashed teasingly at me, but I didn't feel like playing our little game again. I wanted to get out of the stream. My heart was still pounding like I had run ten miles.

I shrank back as Dewstep glowered at me, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"Get out," the sour-puss ordered. "Our rest is over."

OoOooOOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOooOooOooOooOOoOooOOoo

The trek back took longer, mostly because I didn't want to walk in sopping wet fur. I hissed in annoyance as my paws squelched every time I brought them down.

"You'll dry off soon in this heat," Wolfpaw responded with a hint of amusement in her voice. She thinks I look funny when I waddle like a duck.

I was falling behind the others.

Dewstep stopped and called back, "Get a move on, Stormpaw! Walk faster."

When he looked away, I rolled my eyes. Calm the heck down, geez. We had all the time in the world.

I dragged myself slower and slower until the others disappeared down the hill and left me. Sighing, I plopped down and squinted up at the red-hot sun. The heat pounded into my head and made me dizzy. If only I could shed my fur off like a coat.

I closed my eyes and was content to just stay there for the rest of the day, lazily soaking up the rays and not moving even an inch. I could be an apprentice later.

My spine suddenly went cold and rigid. I snapped my eyes open again, and in a flash, I had leaped to my paws and my ears were pricked and alert. The others had gone. I was the only one in the woods.

But I still couldn't calm down. I felt something hidden and unknown, staring at me from the depths of the shadows, its intent gaze boring into mine. I shivered. My hackles began to rise. Stupid Sam, I scolded myself. There's nothing there. Nothing but the trees and the birds.

Instinct, it must be. Or I could just be paranoid.

Wait—something moved. Something among the undergrowth and the ferns; a little, tiny subtle swaying of a tail, a blinking of invisible eyes, parted jaws, whiskers that twitched and heaved with every little breath.

Two round, green feline eyes glowing against the curled plants in the forest. They blinked, looked deep into my own, and then they vanished. That gaze alone spoke words that I didn't know, stopped time that I didn't have and made the world halt dead in its tracks.

Who was this mysterious stranger that dared to trespass in my land? Fluffing up my fur, I yowled, "Hey! Come back!"

Something large and burly crashed through the trees. Stalks crunched underpaw.

I quickly gave chase, my heart thudding with exhilaration and my paws running nimbly as if they were weightless.

I caught a whiff of WindClan scent. It wasn't Harespring though, or anyone I knew, but it didn't matter.

This was more like it! This felt like living! Chasing away trespassers certainly beat tramping around all day in the sun.

The wind whistled and howled in my ears as I whipped past long, sharp grass and tangled bushes. They scratched my eyes but I didn't care.

He was always just out of reach. He was like a quick blur, a nimble shadow, one minute he was there, and then he wasn't. His legs were blurs and the trees always hid him from view.

I followed the racket of his blundering and watched as the tip of his tail disappeared, weaving, among the branches.

I was slowing down, but I couldn't let him get away! No use; this WindClan cat had legs made out of springs.

Panting heavily, I was just about to give up when suddenly I ran smack dab into a wall of red fur.

A sharp voice, vicious and high, jostled my ears and brought me skidding to a halt.

I reeled back in surprise and shook the pain from my head. And then I recoiled in terror. The liveliness from moments before evaporated as I took in the sight of a full-grown fox glowering down at me.

But the fear was short-lived. Growling, I tackled it and lurched onto her back, sinking my claws into her shoulder blades. A mangy fox didn't belong in my turf!

Her golden eyes widened in surprise as she thrashed around wildly, trying to throw me off. She reached her head back, snapping her teeth furiously, attempting to grab me, but I was just out of her reach.

"Don't let me catch you here again!" I meowed triumphantly. I was jostled around but only dug my claws in deeper.

The fox was making a heck of a lot of noise. She howled her head off and growled and bit and tore, spun around in a violent frenzy, and kicked up her hind legs like a raging bull and slashed her way through the leaves.

Dewstep burst out into view with the others hard on his heels.

He halted in surprise. "Stormpaw!" he yelled. "What in StarClan's name are you doing?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I hissed back. If I wasn't so focused on hanging on I would've rolled my eyes at him. That mouse-brained old geezer. How thick was his skull? "I'm chasing away this fox!"

With a surprised cry, I was yanked off of the snarling fox by the scruff of my neck and was dumped awkwardly onto the ground.

Rubbing my bruised neck, I glared up at Dewstep as he scowled back with eyes of fury.

He lashed his tail and snarled, "How flea-brained can you get? She's not an enemy!"

His ears were folded back and his claws were out. He looked like Engelbreit when he was trying to claw his way out of his bath.

Bristling, I stood up until we were nose-to-nose. Our faces were so close together that I could feel his angry breath, and if I wanted to, I could cuff his ears with my paws.

"What do you mean, that she's not the enemy?" I spat. "It's a stupid fox on ThunderClan land!"

Dewstep looked as if I had actually slapped him across the face. In a low, warning tone, he growled, "Don't you dare call her stupid ever again."

Silverpaw's timid voice rose up to my ears as she shyly padded up to me. "Stormpaw, it's—"

I swung my head around and bared my teeth. The idiot quickly shut up and scampered away. Good for her!

Meanwhile, the dang fox was sitting on her haunches, licking her scratches like she actually owned the place. I stalked toward her. Dewstep or no Dewstep, I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. Without warning, she glanced up and noticed me. I expected her to growl and snarl like the savage she was, but she actually opened her mouth and asked, "Who _are_ you?"

I stopped in my tracks. My jaw slightly agape in disbelief, I turned toward Scorchpaw, hoping that he would tell me just why there was a perfectly normal-looking fox sitting there and actually _talking. _

None of the other cats looked even remotely surprised that the fox had opened her mouth and talked.

With a nervous laugh, I asked, "E-excuse me? Am I missing something here? Foxes aren't supposed to—"

Wolfpaw turned to me calmly with her deep blue eyes and explained, "Ember's not an ordinary vixen. She's a part of ThunderClan. One of our warriors, in fact."

I cocked my head to one side. Searching her gaze, I hoped that she was just pulling my leg.

But she looked absolutely dead serious.

I furrowed my brow. "So you're training foxes as warriors? What next? Badgers?"

The fox (her name was Ember?), regarded me silently with stern eyes. Then all of a sudden, she gave me a toothy grin. Those jagged golden teeth sent shivers down my spine. She could have easily snapped me in half when we were wrestling, so why didn't she? Could it be that she was actually holding back?

"So you're new here," she said. It didn't sound like a question. I didn't say anything.

She continued, "Your name is Stormpaw, then? I'm Ember. Sorry about the fight. I was just a bit startled when you came across me like that," although she didn't sound the least bit sorry. I scowled in reply.

Dewstep barged between us and mewed coldly, "I apologize on her behalf, Ember. It seems that we must be going now. Good day to you." Giving her a small nod and shooting me a dirty look, he turned and strode away, beckoning to me with his tail.

The fox stared after me with narrowed eyes before turning and walking away in the opposite direction. I watched as her bright scarlet fur gradually disappeared into the green of the woods.

With the grumpy geezer out of earshot, I whispered to Scorchpaw, "Why are they letting foxes join our Clan? It's dangerous."

He shrank away from me at first. I regretted my angry outburst earlier, but perked up when he replied, "Ember's not dangerous at all. She's just different. Dewstep trusts her."

"Do _you _trust her?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied at once.

I huffed. Fox warriors? Was I going to see duck soldiers parading around RiverClan and lizards standing guard in front of ShadowClan? The whole idea just seemed dumb. How could the queens let a fox near their kits? How could they even allow it to come near their camp? Who knows, maybe the mutt might just snap one day and go on a bloody rampage.

Scorchpaw's whiskers twitched. "Don't worry," he mewed. "It might seem strange to see her wandering around the camp, but you'll get used to it."

I didn't believe him. I reminded myself to keep looking back over my shoulder, in case she came after me one day in the hopes of getting revenge.

Featherpaw was in my line of sight, and unexpectantly, I actually began to notice her. She was quiet, oddly quiet. When she realized that I was staring at her, I quickly looked away in embarrassment. There was something strange about her.

She hadn't said a single word in the whole entire day. She didn't even make so much as a meow.

I whispered to Scorchpaw, "What's wrong with her?"

His ears twitched and he blinked. Sliding his gaze away, he took a deep breath before answering. "Featherpaw was born different. She wasn't complete, the medicine cats said."

At the funny look on my face, he quickly said, "No, no, her head's fine. She can think as clearly as me or you. But…" His voice trailed off.

I tilted my head to the side to blink at him quizzically.

Glancing back at me, he finally continued, "She was born with some parts missing from her throat. Can't speak. Can't talk. Can't even make a sound, no matter how small it is. For the rest of her life, no one will be able to hear the sound of her voice. But there's more. Um…" He cleared his throat. "The medicine cats…they say that it could affect her life."

I knew what he meant, but I wanted to make sure. "And?" I asked.

"Her lifespan. She won't be able to live as long as Silverpaw or me or Wolfpaw. Her days are numbered. It's only a matter of time before she…before she…"

So that's the real reason why Ivypool kept fussing over her. That's why all the elders gave her sympathetic glances practically every few minutes. Featherpaw was doomed to live a life without a voice, without a complete throat, without the chance of growing old like the rest of us.

"When?" I asked quietly.

"Not soon. Don't worry, it won't happen soon at all. She'll be able to become a warrior, that much is certain. And she's strong, you see. She could climb halfway up the Sky Oak when she was only a kit, and she's almost as fast as Wolfpaw. She can hunt, she can fight like the rest of us."

"Oh."

That's all I could say. What was there to say?

Slowing down my pace, I let her catch up to me.

As friendly as I could, I smiled brightly and meowed, "Hi, Featherpaw." She glanced at me with a bored expression and looked away.

Crap, did I look too cheerful? Was my grin too wide?

I tried again. "So, what's it like living in ThunderClan? Do you like it here?"

I facepalmed myself mentally. Smooth move, Sam, asking a voiceless cat these kinds of questions. It's not like she could answer me.

Featherpaw suddenly shot me a quick glare and sprinted away.

I stood there, dejected. What did I do wrong?

Wolfpaw blinked at me sympathetically. "It's alright, Stormpaw," she said. "She's like that with practically every cat. You just get used to her temper. That's all there is to it."

I sighed and nodded.

On the way back to camp, I couldn't help but think about the voiceless cat. What was it like?

I remembered her glare, and scowled. She had no right to look at me as if I were a piece of fresh-kill! Who did she think she was? Just because her mother took extra care of her didn't mean she was anything special.

At the sound of Dewstep's gruff voice, I picked up the pace and continued on the rest of the way toward the ThunderClan clearing.

But still, I shouldn't let Featherpaw weigh me down. I had a lot more things to look forward to. I wasn't Samantha Piper any longer. My name was Stormpaw, and I was now a ThunderClan apprentice!

**Hum. I was rereading and realized that her thoughts sounded awfully cluttered. It could just be me, though.**

**If you have time, I would appreciate some advice or a bit of critique. I want to improve on my writing skills.**


	5. Chapter 4-Luminous Souls

CHAPTER 4-Luminous Souls

Snowstorm remembered the day he died. He remembered it like a fuzzy dream at the back of his head, something like a small puff drifting in the current of a lukewarm wind. He couldn't really recall everything that happened in his last day on the Lake, but he did remember the feeling of the Darkling's jaws clamping down on him like a steel trap, the despairing and hollow poison that infested his heart and spread from the tips of his ears to the length of his tail and left him numb, empty, broken. The last thing he ever saw was the horrified face of Dewstep gazing at him, wide-eyed and bristling. It didn't look like his brother's face at all. His brother was supposed to be strong and unyielding, hot-headed and able to stare down a vicious adder, but now, he was as helpless as a newborn kit. Snowstorm didn't blame him. He blamed no one. It was his own fault and no one else's.

But the one thing he wanted to do before he died, right at that split second, was to see Shadefrost one last time. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to hear her voice and feel her tail twining with his, and just gaze into those bright brown eyes that promised nothing but Newleaf and hope and feathered dreams.

He didn't get his wish, not until much, much later. And he wasn't sure if he would ever see her again.

When he first padded into the starry realm of StarClan, all those moons ago on the night of his death, he didn't know how beautiful it would look.

It was mesmerizing. It was gorgeous. It was simply, unarguably beautiful and stunning, and there was no one in the whole world who could tell him otherwise. The stars twinkled and whirled together in unison in the black velvet curtains of the twilight sky. They flashed violet and navy blue and black and brilliant azure, like the petals of flowers, like pollen, like tiny endlessly rippling eyes. Whole galaxies and planets came together and burst apart and whirled before him. They danced. They sang. They roared with all their might, and they welcomed him with outstretched arms, singing.

Snowstorm padded on starlight. He would never be able to doze in the warrior den, feigning sleep so that he could skip the dawn patrol. He would never be able to argue with his sister or brother ever again. He wouldn't be able to just sit there in the quiet woods and gaze off into the purple mountains, wondering where his life would lead him and what kind of a cat he was going to be. He was nothing but a ghost now, gone, dead. His story had ended right when the Darkling tore his life from him and hurled it way beyond his reach.

_Don't think about your past, _Thunder rumbled.

_ You're nothing but a spirit now, _Feathertail's soft voice whispered in his hear like the hushed voice of a spider's husk. _But you're safe here._

Snowstorm had a feeling that they had said those same words to every befuddled newcomer they came across, but he said nothing.

As the singsong voices washed over him like the gentle tide of an ocean wave, he lifted his head up and blinked, the asteroids and comets reflected in his hollow, sad eyes.

OoOoOooOoOOOOoOoOOOoOOooOooooooooooOoOoO

He never knew that Silverpelt was so large and looming. He only thought of StarClan as a cluster of pulsing orbs and nothing else.

But it was a whole world up here, an entire realm, with glowing stars and flowering purple galaxies and moons and pitch-black drapery. The things that inhabitated StarClan weren't always cat-like. Once or twice, he came across creatures that didn't even look remotely feline. They had eyes and slits and mouths and claws and ridged spines fixed to their backs, and they regarded him as he passed, but they never said anything. Some of them slithered, others oozed, and still others had one foot or less.

A strange place, Snowstorm thought, but probably for the better.

He had trouble adjusting. Another thing he learned was that ghosts saw time differently. It passed quicker, much, much more quicker. It could be sunrise one moment and sunset a minute later. Snowstorm didn't really care. He felt like he had been here for only a few moons, when in reality it could have been years or whole decades, but he flicked time away from him like a pesky fly. Let the living deal with time, he thought. The dead deserves some rest.

He pushed his memories so far into the back of his brain that they were now buried and forgotten. He never expected to think about Brightheart or Dewstep or Shadefrost ever again. They were only transparent films of dust that could easily be swept away with a single brush of his paw, and he let their names and their faces crumble and blow away.

Nothing lasted forever. Not one single tiny thing, not a tiny flower, or a drop of dew, or a warm sunshine ray.

He dozed off in his grave and slept like a log.

OoOoOoOoOoOOOooOoOOoOooOooOOOooooOOoOOOOo

It was a little bit of a shock when he suddenly remembered them again.

He and the stick-thing sat overlooking a swath of landscape covered in stars. It glowed and pulsed with a silvery sheen.

The stick-thing had a name, but it was so foreign to him that Snowstorm decided to just forget about it.

It was talking. "I've been up here for a century. Maybe a millennium, maybe more. Time works differently when you've been dead for so long."

Snowstorm nodded. He knew.

"And it makes you forget things. Your treasure. You have one, don't you?" the thing said, its nose twitching.

Snowstorm didn't answer. He remembered, very faintly, of a sun washing over a glittering lake and of splashing, laughter, tiny minnows darting between his paws.

He shook his head, but the memory lingered for a little while longer like a dream.

"What do you know about treasure," he said. "You're only a stick-thing."

"Don't speak nonsense now, dear," it whispered. Its dainty paws groomed itself in an almost cat-like fashion. Its large wet eyes were haunting. "'Most everyone has a treasure. Look deeper. Once you find something you hold dear in your heart, you must hold on to it with both paws and never let go. Defend it with your life."

Snowstorm thought it was a bit funny, the last bit, but he didn't laugh. The face of a black she-cat flashed in his mind, but he didn't know her name. She was a stranger.

He meowed, "I am already dead. I have nothing to stand for anymore. StarClan is only a place for spirits who have nowhere else to go."

"Not so, young warrior. The dew here glitters like tiny stars, and you can wash them away with a single step. Frost is nonexistent in StarClan, because there are no seasons. The stars shine brightly, but they hide shades in their core. Do you see? No matter how beautiful or brilliant StarClan may be, it is nothing compared to where you came from. There is nothing here but space and blackness and comets. But, where you come from, you can see the sun."

Snowstorm stiffened. His thoughts and memories came crashing down on him like a downpour of sudden rain, and no matter how hard he wanted to push it back, the flood lapped against his ears and threatened to drown him.

He turned his gaze to stare at the stick-thing. "Shadefrost," he said. "She left me. She said that she would come back, but she never did. What if she's forgotten about me? About us?"

The thing rumbled as if in soft laughter. "Young warrior, never fear. She has a brave heart and wings of flame and fury. Nothing is impossible for her."

"Maybe she doesn't want to come back."

The thing stood up on its hind legs like a long and thin squirrel. She cocked her head to one side. "Let me tell you something, warrior. There are some things that you can never know for certain, and still, you can't help but desperately cling onto the hope that it will happen. If you believe hard enough, and you wait long enough, chances are it will happen. Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe you'll have to wait a thousand years. But never lose hope."

Snowstorm turned away and contemplated. These quiet days were spent mostly on thinking. "Then..." his voice shook. "I will see Shadefrost again."

The prospect startled him and he dropped it. It shattered onto the ground into hundreds of pieces, but it left a small tear on his paw. It would heal and scar over, and it would still be there and he wouldn't forget it.

The stick-thing got up to leave.

"Wait," Snowstorm mewed. "What was your name again?"

She told him. It sounded like a distant melody. And then she gathered up her bundle and swam away into the river of swarming stars, and under the light of the glowing moon she looked almost like a queer, strange sort of weasel.

Snowstorm heaved himself to his paws and drifted away in the opposite direction. Shadefrost was coming back. He would see her again. And the Clans, too.

And Dewstep, and Amberlight, and all the others. He was nothing but a dead, floating spirit with a grave and no body of his own, but he was a spirit with some haunting to do.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The nights were cool here. And they were quiet, too. The only things I could ever hear were the soft murmurings of owls and the quiet shushing of the grass whispering to each other. As the world settled down for sleep, the noise disappeared, as if a bulb had been turned off.

"You like stories?" Silverpaw asked me, her blue eyes glowing eagerly in the dark. I huffed out of my nose and shrugged. "Not especially," I replied. The stories I ever read always told about heroes, brave soldiers and leaders who saved the world. They always did things that I never could.

She leaped to her paws and blinked at me, her tail waving excitedly. "Come on," she mewed. "The elders'll tell us some."

And Purdy, I found, told the best ones.

He was frail and old and was practically nothing but a bag of bones. The long, rugged fur on his face fanned outward like a beard, and his whiskers were a mess of white string.

"A story, eh?" he rasped, with a glint in his orange eyes and a twitch of his tangled whiskers. "I thought I told you all the ones ah knew."

"Then tell Stormpaw," Silverpaw pleaded. "Tell her the one about the Guardian of the Lake. Pretty please?" Her eyes gleamed.

I tipped my head to one side and asked, "Who's the Guardian of the Lake?" He sounded like some sort of hero. From StarClan, maybe?

"Gather 'round," the old cat purred. "Listen closely, and I'll tell you."

Meh, I thought. I didn't want to hear about the heroic deeds of some cat I didn't know. It's not like I could ever be a hero.

The Guardian, he said, came from nowhere. No one knew where she was from. It was as if she had arrived from the heavens, a gift from StarClan itself. She was the one who had saved the Clans from a dark evil known only as the Darklings.

"What was she like?" I asked, although I tried not to show that I was too interested.

She was black-furred, brown-eyed, Purdy rumbled. And she was the noblest warrior he had ever met. When she first came to the Clans, she was shy and quiet. She couldn't even look anyone in the eye. But she fought hard and she trained harder, and pretty soon, she rose through the ranks. That was when the Darklings first came. They came and tore the whole place apart, and after her heroic battle with the wretched fox Fang, she saved the Clans and helped it together again.

"You said she was shy?" I asked, wrinkling my brow.

"It certainly seemed that way to me. But she was more than that, ya know?" Purdy chuckled.

Shy. She sounded like someone I knew. Almost.

"You're telling her story wrong, Purdy," a voice said as a shadow stepped into the room.

I whirled around in surprise. Dewstep hovered over me, his amber eyes narrowed into slits. His face was an expression bordering between frustration and the calm before a storm. Geez, what a sourpuss. It seemed to me that he couldn't smile even if he tried.

Purdy dipped his head. "Wasn't expectin' you here, young 'un. What can ah do fer you?"

Dewstep replied, "You said that the Guardian was a noble warrior, braver than the bravest of lions and stronger than the mountains. But you're missing the point. You keep telling them what she did. But you don't tell them who she really was."

I began to bristle. Something about this tom set my nerves on edge, although I wasn't sure why. Why couldn't he just leave us alone?

"What do you mean by that?" I grumbled. "Purdy said that she was a savior of the Clans. What more is there to know?"

"No, youngster, keep yer fur on."

Purdy, instead of being angry, looked remarkably calm, as if it didn't matter how a story was told. "Tell us then, warrior," he purred, nodding to Dewstep. "You knew her the most."

The warrior swiveled his ears. Thoughts whirled behind his eyes. He flexed his shoulders and sat down, giving his chest fur a few licks.

"Alright, I'll tell you," he growled. "Shadefrost wasn't only brave and strong. She was a coward, too. And a bit of a scatter-brain."

Bristling, I opened my mouth to protest, but he shot me a sizzling glare.

Continuing, he meowed, "I didn't know what my brother was thinking when he toddled up to the stranger and told her his name. She could have been a rogue, or a murderer. I thought it foolish of Bramblestar to let her join ThunderClan. After all, what was she good for? She couldn't hunt. She couldn't pounce. Her fighting skills were as lousy as a shrew's. It didn't matter that my brother wanted to be friends with her. I didn't want her anywhere near me. So…" He broke off, staring into the distance, eyes unfocused, as if he were searching for something out of his reach. "So I taunted her and bullied her and thought her useless. Only a stroke of death made me realize that she was different. I was hanging off a cliff, realizing that I was going to die, and hoping that I would get to see my family one last time. Please, StarClan, I thought, I wanted to live. And all of a sudden, _she _came to my rescue. I thought StarClan had sent her to my aide. She was like, like…"

_An angel? _I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. I didn't want to get my ears clawed off.

"After that, we became friends. I realized why my brother would fall in love with a cat like her. I recognized what he saw in her. He believed in her, and so did I. Even when we failed countless times and I thought she had left and abandoned us, she always came back. She always came back, no matter what happened, just to see us again."

Silverpaw asked quietly, "Where did she go?"

He paused, mouth slightly open, searching for an answer he didn't know. He stopped for a minute, his eyes glassy and blank. Then he shook his head slowly, solemnly. "She went home. She left without a second glance back."

I glared at him. I wanted to yell, _You mouse-brain! You should've chased after her! You should've gone with her! And now look what happened! She left you behind in the dust._

Dewstep went silent, and his eyes grew dull and sad. For a second, I pitied him. I knew what it felt like to be left behind.

Silverpaw gave him a small, timid smile. "But she left us the Tree of Promise. You can always go up to the Moonpool and see it."

All of a sudden, he spun around and bared his teeth, snarling like a mad animal. Silverpaw yelped in surprise and dove behind me, where she trembled like a leaf.

"Hey!" I growled, springing to her defense. "Leave her alone!"

His face was contorted into an angry snarl, but then, as if he had snapped out of a trance, he stopped himself. His face turned back to normal. Hiding his eyes, he backed out of his den, muttered a small apology, and left.

"What's his problem?" I growled as I watched him stalk away.

Purdy was oddly quiet. He had curled up into a soft, crumpled ball in the corner. His ear twitched, and he suddenly rasped, "I've heard some from the medicine cat. He says the Tree is dying."

Silverpaw's blue eyes grew wide as she leaped to her paws. She gasped in disbelief, "But how? Why? Jayfeather said that? But you know that's not true. The Tree is special. It can't just die."

The elder scuffled his paws for a few heartbeats. When he looked up, his eyes had grown warm again. He gave a rusty mew. "Now, now, youngster, it's alright. I don't know fer sure if that's what he really said. It's getting late. Ya'll should be settlin' down now."

OooOoOooooooooooooOOooOOoOOOOoooOoOoO

We padded back to the den side-by-side. The clearing was empty and washed with moonlight. Stardust glittered on the tops of the trees.

"What's so special about the Tree of Promise?" I asked. "It's just a tree, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not just an ordinary tree. The Guardian gave it to us."

"Huh." I was still skeptical, but was too tired to argue.

I plopped down on the moss and curled up. It crinkled like dry paper. I suddenly wished for my comfy bed back at home.

Something in the den shifted and scuffled forward, and a pair of amber eyes hovered in front of me like two ghosts.

I sighed. "Mm tired," I grumbled, shoving my face down between my paws. "G'night."

Scorchpaw grinned. His eyes lowered mischievously, as if he was planning to do something very, very wicked.

"What?" I muttered.

He prodded Silverpaw with his tail. "You know what happens on the night of the crescent moon."

Silverpaw answered his smirk with a snarky grin of her own. Unlike me, she didn't seem tired at all. Where did she get so much energy?

"Sometimes," she mewed in a hoarse whisper, making her voice as low as possible. "We tell ghost stories."

I stretched my mouth wide into a laugh. "_Ghost _stories?" I meowed in disbelief. "Is that what this is about?"

"Hush up!" Scorchpaw hissed. "You'll wake the warriors. Remember, we're supposed to be asleep right now. We're not allowed to stay up too late."

"Yeah, yeah." I waved my paw and turned over onto my side, facing the wall.

The two fell silent. I could feel their disappointment and pouts seeping over me like waves.

I hoped that they would give up and go back to sleep, but Scorchpaw started up again. His voice was a low whisper, like the moan of the wind through the willows. "Once upon a time, when the world was still new and the first kits were being born, a great war was fought between two of the neighboring Clans. The reason for the War had long been forgotten by everyone, even by StarClan itself, but the echoes of claws and screams and the moans of the dying still seep into the clearing in cold nights like this." The den was warm and full, but out there, in the outside world, it was so silent that I could hear the _tap, tap, tapp_ing of a stray branch against the roof. A lone breeze trailed its fingers over the slumbering camp. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it, but Silverpaw's hushed voice was more insistent. I could see her blue eyes glowing like shadowy orbs in the darkness.

"It was a mighty War. Many were slain and felled like mice from a hawk. The ground was painted red. The Lake was filled with blood instead of water."

I huffed. Was this really supposed to be scary?

"Legend has it, that a cat had caused this Great War. His name was shunned by everyone for fear that it would bring curses and bad luck to the woodlands, but he still exists. He was the cat that had done something so evil, so wicked and treacherous, so awful, that he shattered the warrior code itself. His deed shook the earth to the core. When he fell from the Great War, StarClan turned its back on him and shut him out. He pleaded with them and begged them to let him in, but his cries fell on deaf ears. He then turned and fled over to the Place of No Stars, but even the most dark-hearted rogues there refused to admit him. The cat was so sinful that even the Dark Forest cats were petrified of him."

The wind whirled and groaned like one of the dying.

"So the cat had no choice but to linger on the earth with nowhere to go, with no stars to guide him and no souls to carry him. He was doomed to stay between both worlds for all eternity. Even to this day, his ghost still wanders the forest, searching for victims."

Behind my eyes, I saw a black shape trudging through the trees. The leaves stirred underneath his musty claws. His narrowed eyes glinted in the moonlight. His fur reeked of dust and of years long gone. I saw him raise his nose to the air, scenting it, turning toward ThunderClan. I saw him quicken his pace and hurry toward it.

"He is the lost wanderer of the earth. The cat with a heart so black that the warrior code shudders at his memory. The one cat that StarClan forgot. The cat more terrible than Tigerstar or Scourge or even the long-gone Darklings. He has no mercy. No kindness or compassion. A heart of ice and terror. Who knows, if you might run across him one day and—"

"I get it!" I spat. The two huffed and grumbled, and then settled back down onto the moss.

I sighed. I really should stop yelling. These cats were nice, I told myself. I should be nicer.

As sleep quickly descended upon me, I wrapped my tail around my nose and breathed in the dusty smell of moss. My thoughts lingered over the things that had happened in the past few days.

I almost thought about my home, but quickly steered myself away from it.

The ghost, I thought sleepily, settling into a deep sleep. What did he do that was so bad?

In the silence of the night, I thought I heard the soft tapping of the claws on the ground, felt the presence of someone I didn't know, and then I was asleep.


	7. Chapter 6-This Morning

CHAPTER 6-This Morning

The morning air hung heavily with the crisp scent of rain. It didn't smell like the grey, acid rain of cities. It was wild; it grew like the vines, uncontained, uncontrolled, twisting and churning and spiraling out of control. The ground got damp, awaiting its arrival. Dark clouds lolled and rumbled lazily overhead.

"You will be hunting in partners," Dewstep announced. "I expect each of you to bring back at least three pieces of prey."

I glanced around at the cats, perking up when I spotted Scorchpaw nearby. But Silverpaw bounded toward him, mewing something into his ear, and he nodded. They stood side-by-side as partners, waiting for the hunt to start; Dewstep acknowledged them with a nod.

My eyes lowered as I looked away. That left only Wolfpaw and Featherpaw to choose from.

Wolfpaw, the dark grey she-cat, stretched luxuriously and parted her jaws to drink in the scent of the oncoming rain. I envied her; she had a way of looking thin and petite even though her muscles flexed through her limbs, and there was something liquid about her, like she could stretch and contort and fit through the narrowest of spaces.

She waved the mentor over with her tail and whispered something quietly into his ear. After a pause, he nodded, and we both watched as she leaped nimbly to her paws and raced away to the damp undergrowth.

I growled in annoyance. "How come _she _can hunt alone?"

Without glancing at me, Dewstep replied, "She is far more experienced and well-trained than you. She can manage just fine without a partner."

I opened my mouth to protest again, but clenched it shut, sulking, when I realized that he was right.

That left only Featherpaw. She was sitting on her haunches, alone with her eyes half-closed and her nose buried into the white fur of her chest, as if she was asleep but not asleep, daydreaming.

She shot her head up with surprise when I began to pad toward her. I gave her an awkward nod, and she settled back down again.

"Alright then," Dewstep meowed. "If no one has any questions, we will begin. Remember the ShadowClan and WindClan borders, and make sure you don't cross them."

I raised my tail. He sighed and asked, "What is it now, Stormpaw?"

Keeping my voice as low as possible so she didn't hear, I whispered, "Can't I hunt by myself? I don't need a partner."

He was silent for a moment. I thought I saw a flash of anger in his yellow and cracked eyes, but then he straightened himself up. His voice was hard and stern when he spoke, like stone.

"Stormpaw. There is a difference between the life of a loner and the life of a Clan cat. As a Clan, we fight together. We eat together and hunt together and do everything together. It is our duty to be the best we can be and to protect the ones we love most."

I furrowed my brow, obviously not understanding. What did being a warrior have to do with having a partner?

Sensing my confusion, he leaned back and sighed in exasperation. He muttered, "Honestly, at least Shadefrost wasn't as annoying as..."

He thought I couldn't hear, but I did.

The tom heaved himself to his paws, and without glancing back, he mewed, "You're still young, Stormpaw. You'll understand when you're older."

The others had already left. Pretty soon, Featherpaw and I were the only ones who were in the clearing.

She was licking her paw, as if she didn't really care if we hunted or not. I was pretty content to just stay here myself, but I didn't want to face Dewstep's wrath.

I waved my tail awkwardly, trying to catch her attention.

"So, um...let's start?" I stammered.

To my relief, instead of ignoring me, the freckled she-cat nodded and stood up.

I glanced around uncertainly. Wild brush hung all around us. The leaves and ferns bobbed up and down with the wind, silent except for a faint shushing noise.

I asked, "So...uh, where do you want to go?"

She blinked at me slowly with a bored expression on her face. I cursed at myself inwardly. How did I get myself into this mess? I was stuck with a cat who couldn't speak, and I wasn't even sure if she understood what I was saying. Should I just leave her behind?

I tried again. "Should we start at the Sky Oak?"

Featherpaw's ear twitched and she shook her head slightly. Her tail waved and quivered in the air.

"What's that?" I asked.

She waved it more insistently. It bobbed up and down with the wind, like the light reeds on the Lake. Her brow furrowed. She looked frustrated. I didn't know what she was trying to tell me.

Something in my mind clicked suddenly, like a light bulb switching on. I perked up hopefully. "You wanna go hunt near the Lake?"

Her green eyes softened and she looked relieved. She nodded.

I lifted my paw, ready to go, when I realized that the cat hadn't moved yet.

I gazed at her questioningly, my head tipped to one side in confusion.

"What is it now?" At this rate, we would get nowhere.

She jumped to her paws and scurried in a circle around me, before dashing a few sprints forward and then walking back again. It looked almost comical, but I didn't laugh. I was curious to learn more about her strange sort of "language".

With a startled jolt, I realized that she was glaring at me, urging me to answer her. I stuttered, "Uh, ah...you want to catch squirrels?"

She sighed through her nose. Frustrated.

Well, too bad for you, I thought miserably. I had no idea what she wanted me to do.

Once again, with a forced patience, Featherpaw tapped my shoulder with her tail, telling me to pay attention. She circled me again, repeating the whole thing over. I noticed that she ran rather than walked. She sprinted a few paces ahead and disappeared in the undergrowth. The leaves quivered in her wake, before she dashed back again and blinked at me expectantly, panting slightly.

I tipped my head to one side. Running, not walking. She wanted to run to the Lake. But why would she want to tell me? She could just go ahead and do what she wanted.

Or...she wanted to race.

My lips cracked into a small smile. So Featherpaw did have a certain playfulness to her after all.

Her green eyes lit up. She leaped on the tips of her toes, barely concealing her excitement.

I called, "Get ready, get set, go!"

She shot off like a bullet. I gave her a bit of a head start, but then kicked up my heels and we were running together, side-by-side. The wind whistled in my ears, bringing the promise of summer rain. It blasted me full in the face and combed its fingers through my tortoiseshell fur.

I didn't want to laugh, but it bubbled out of me like a stream. I laughed along with the wind, without any reason or purpose, laughing just for the feel of laughing.

When I glanced over at Featherpaw, her eyes were shining. If she was able to make a sound, I was sure that she would laugh too.

OoOooOoOOoOoOooOooOOOoOOOoOoOOooOo

Featherpaw had a reason to want to hunt on the banks of the Lake, I soon realized. It was teeming with frogs and crickets and waterbirds, and if we were lucky, we could dab at the minnows that swam in the shallow part of the water.

She could hunt much better than I could, much to my dismay. She had already snagged two little toads, and I saw her bring down a sparrow flying in midair.

I wilted inwardly. It didn't seem fair that a cat like her could hunt and I couldn't.

Featherpaw wanted to teach me; I knew because of the motions she made.

She showed me her unsheathed claws, making sure that I saw them. Then she crouched down with much more dramatic movements, and crept forward slowly, as if she was stalking an invisible mouse. She waved to me with her tail, ordering me to copy her.

I didn't.

"I know how to hunt," I told her as kindly as possible. It's just that the prey didn't seem so willing to cooperate.

She fluffed out her fur indignantly and her eyes flashed. The cat tapped me on my nose with her tail. I flinched.

I growled, "Stop that."

She shook her head and waved her tail again in frustration. I could almost hear her growling like me, although of course she couldn't.

"I don't need you to show me how to hunt," I said again. Out of the corner of my eye, a brown shape hopped along among the long stalks of grass. The long ears twitched, and it sauntered away.

Wanting to prove it to her, I called, "Wait here," and bolted after the rabbit.

I was on its trail in an instant. It shot its head up in surprise, its dark eyes wide when it saw me approaching it with an eager gleam in my intent gaze. I let out a shout when it zigzagged and dashed into the forest.

With adrenaline blazing through my veins, I leaped and bounded after my target, with limbs as strong and graceful as a lion's. The rabbit, no matter how hard it skimmed over the ground, found that it could not throw me off.

"You're mine!" I yowled in victory when I was in its reach.

Suddenly, without warning, the pesky thing halted in its tracks, sending a cloud of dust blooming over its furry head.

I was running too fast to skid to a halt. With a cry, the ground flew up from underneath me, and I tumbled head over heels, past my target, and rolled over and over into the thicket of thorny brambles.

Spitting out a mouthful of grass, I glared at the rabbit that poked its head up to look at me.

I spat, "You wait! I'll rip your fur off!"

It cocked its head to one side. I almost saw a glint of amusement in its dark hazel eyes.

"My, my," it suddenly said. "Are all cats that violent?"

I froze. For a few heartbeats, the only thing I could hear was my breath coming in gasps from the short run.

I blinked. "Did you just talk?"

The rabbit licked its tiny paw and began to groom itself. "Talk?" he mused. "You mean the thing that I'm doing right now? 'Course I am, if this is what you call talking. Cats ask such repetitive questions."

I felt myself bristle. I struggled to stand up, but the brambles snagged onto my fur with a tight hold like fingers. It yanked me back down, and the only thing I could do was shoot him a death glare.

"How can you talk?" I hissed. "You're a rabbit."

"Amazing, ain't it? Once in a while the upper predators in the food chain should realize that they're not the only ones with priorities."

"I'm not hallucinating, then?" He looked real enough.

"I'm pretty sure that I exist. Long ears. Fluffy tail. Whiskers and limbs. Yep, pretty sure."

Alright. So I wasn't hallucinating. A rabbit that could talk. And one with a pretty smart mouth. Just wait until I got my claws on him...

"You know," he said suddenly, his whiskers twitching. His large, bulging dark eyes almost made him look intelligent. "I suppose I _could _help you out of those brambles. Rodents have nice teeth for gnawing through stems. The thorns won't bother me much."

I gave him a thoughtful look. "So what are you waiting for? Let me out then. I promise that if you do, I'll spare your life," although I was lying through my teeth. I planned to catch him as soon as I could.

He seemed to know. "Hm," he said, crouching down and tucking his paws underneath his furry tan body. "Leaving so soon? I'd like to have a nice chat before you go. It's been quite a long time since I last talked to anybody besides myself."

I sighed in annoyance. I struggled weakly. Featherpaw must be wondering what was taking me so long.

"Patience, cat," the stupid rabbit chuckled. "I just need a few of your words."

He straightened up with pride. "My name," he announced," is Atlas."

"That's very, very nice," I replied, my tongue dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe you'll want to tell me how old you are, or how many brothers and sisters you have. Or maybe the name of the bush you grew up in. Or maybe you can tell me when I actually _care_." To my dismay, he didn't look offended at all. He had a dumb grin on his face.

I wanted to smack it off. "Do all rabbits have weird names like yours?"

"I would ask the same of you. Do all cats have such queer names like yours? Hold on, though. I actually don't know your name. You're actually the first cat I've ever talked to. So, then. May I inquire your name?"

"You really like hearing yourself talk," I growled. I paused for a minute, thinking. "I guess you can call me Stormpaw."

"See? 'Stormpaw' isn't very different from 'Atlas'. Both very queer words. After all, how can you have a storm in your paw? Can you tell me that, cat?"

"I _can, _after you let me out of this stupid _bush."_

"Alright then, I suppose I'll have to apologize. I've kept you here long enough. You ought to be going back to your friends and family, wherever they are."

He leaned closer and squinted.

After a long pause, he spoke. "You're not really a cat, are you? Not really."

My ears perked up in shock. I squinted back at him. "How...do you know?" I whispered. I wasn't a human anymore. Wasn't I?

The rabbit answered, "Certain small rodents like me can sense such things, Stormpaw." He added quietly, "And I can sense your past. It's like, like a shadow lingering behind you. Part of you wants to forget, but the other half doesn't want to."

I grew silent. I couldn't get him to leave, and I couldn't block out his words. Stupid old rabbit.

His long ears twitched and perked up. "Your friend is near," he said quickly. "It's best that I leave."

He hopped a few paces, before turning back and saying, "And Stormpaw, I can also sense great things coming up ahead for you. Great things. Astounding things. Marvelous things. Things from your wildest dreams." He stood up on his hind legs, and if a rabbit could wink, he would have done it. "Good things are in store for you. I can tell that this won't be the last time we'll meet," and he bounded away out of view.

Featherpaw trudged up the hill right as he left. She scowled at me, her ears angled against her head so that she looked furious.

I wanted to tell her about the talking rabbit, but decided that right now wasn't the good time. I grinned up at her sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about the super long wait. So, you wanna help me out of these brambles?"

oOoOoOooooooooooooOOooOoOoOoOOooooOooO

It began to rain when we entered the camp. Silverpaw and Scorchpaw were already there, resting underneath a tree. The fresh-kill pile was stocked with the prey they had caught.

I could barely conceal a gasp of shock when Wolfpaw dragged in practically a cartload of hawks and mice. I thought I spotted a dead snake thrown in there too.

Dewstep smiled and nodded at her. His gaze hardened when Featherpaw and I approached.

I had two shrews dangling in my jaws. I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment when I realized how small they were compared to everyone else's.

However, to my surprise, Dewstep sniffed the prey and nodded. "Good, I guess. Get some rest. The Gathering is tonight."

He congratulated me, although 'good' was hardly a word of praise. But it was enough, I guess.

The rain fell harder. It pounded against the ground in cold needles that seeped deep into my fur and left me shivering. I bounded over to the apprentices underneath the shelter of the large branches.

Featherpaw trailed after me, and we both looked up when a she-cat's frantic cry brought us to attention.

It was Ivypool. "Featherpaw!" She called, beckoning with her tail urgently. "Come inside the den! You'll catch a cold out here."

Featherpaw's shoulders sagged and she heaved a small sigh.

She blinked at me, a sign that could mean anything, and she slowly sauntered over to the queen. I watched as she padded into the den and darkness swallowed her whole.

"Poor Featherpaw," Silverpaw whispered. "I can't believe how hard it is for her. Imagine living without a voice. No one'll know what you want."

For some reason, I felt that Featherpaw wouldn't like it if she heard what Silverpaw said. The back of my neck prickled for her sake.

Wolfpaw was curled up in a sleek ball with the small silver cat lounging next to her. Sisters, I remembered.

Wolfpaw smiled at me. "I thought you did well today, Stormpaw," she purred. "Not bad, since you've only been in the Clan for a week."

I smiled back. "Yeah," I sighed. "Not as good as you, though."

Scorchpaw flicked my nose with his tail. His russet and white pelt stood out brightly against the grey fog of the downpour. "Don't kid yourself," he mewed sleepily. "You're a good hunter."

I wanted to say, _No, you're just saying that. I could hardly catch a mouse. _But I was too tired, and I curled up to doze off for a bit.

Soft pawsteps approached us quickly, and I cracked open an eye to see Squirrelflight looming over us. She had a worried look on her face.

"Have you seen Grasstail and Moleclaw? No one's spotted them since yesterday night."

"I'm sure they're just frolicking away somewhere," Wolfpaw assured her. "They'll be back in time for the Gathering."

Squirrelflight relaxed visibly. "Yes," she murmured, "Yes, I suppose you're right. But in the meantime, keep an eye out for them."

Scorchpaw nodded firmly. "We will."

As we watched the deputy trot away, Silverpaw whispered. "Maybe the Ghost Cat got them."

"Ghost cat?" I asked. "You mean the one from the Great War?"

Wolfpaw shook her head slightly. "I don't think he's real."

Her sister unsheathed her claws and batted them at an imaginary foe. "The Ghost Cat hunts down his prey because he can smell the scent of their blood. He stalks them, and when the time is right...BAM!" She pounced on Wolfpaw's flickering tail. "Grasstail will scream if anything like that happens to her," Silverpaw chuckled. "She's always afraid of everything."

She giggled and mewed, "Imagine if the Ghost Cat really did get her. I can almost see the look on her face."

But no one laughed. Scorchpaw batted her shoulder with his tail, telling her to quiet down. Apparently, no one was supposed to talk about the Ghost Cat. He wasn't supposed to be remembered.

OoOoooOOoOOOoOooOooOoooooooooooooooOOO

"Ugh. If I knew the island was this crowded, I wouldn't have come," I mewed to Scorchpaw. We were jostled from every side by cats of every Clan. My sharp cat nose could pick up all the details from their scent.

The other apprentices were with me, although it was hard not to get lost. Even Featherpaw had managed to wiggle away from the clutches of her mother. Ivypool must be running around frantically, calling for her daughter at the top of her voice.

"You're mother will be worried about you," Scorchpaw told her, voicing my thoughts. He had to yell to be heard above the crowd.

Featherpaw snickered and shook her head. Good for her. Ivypool needed to learn not to stick so close to her pelt every waking second of the day.

"Shhh, it's starting," Silverpaw whispered eagerly. I stared up at the four leaders seated on the branches of the pine trees. A flicker of excitement bubbled up inside me.

This was my first Gathering!

Rowanstar meowed in a loud, deep voice, "I will start. The prey is running smoothly in ShadowClan. The rains have brought plentiful frogs, and our queens are thriving. We even have new warriors: Sparrowflight, Dewmist, and Mistcloud."

The crowd automatically chanted, "Sparrowflight! Dewmist! Mistcloud!" while the ShadowClan warriors looked on in pride.

As the noise quieted down, Rowanstar dipped his head to Bramblestar.

I admired my own leader, at how large and strong he seemed compared to the other leaders.

ThunderClan was the best Clan, I realized. I was grateful to be a part of it, and not some scrawny WindClan apprentice or a mangy ShadowClan cat.

Bramblestar announced, "My Clan is thriving as well. The apprentices are training as hard as they can, and the Greenleaf prey is plump. We also have a new member: Stormpaw."

"Stormpaw! Stormpaw! Stormpaw!"

My friends cheered the loudest. I ducked my head from all the attention I was getting, but still, I swelled with pride.

Onestar stepped forward, and the look on his face immediatley brought the crowd down to a hush.

His voice was grave. "I have some news to share. A litter of kits have gone missing for two sunrises, and they haven't been seen since. Even two of our elders have mysteriously vanished. If any of you have seen any sign of them, I would like you to tell me as soon as possible. Other than that, WindClan is thriving."

"WindClan as well?" Wolfpaw whispered. Her brow was furrowed with a mix of question and anxiety.

I saw Bramblestar perk up with sudden interest. "Two of our warriors have also disappeared from my Clan. I'm not too concerned for them, since they're strong enough to take care of themselves, but I was sure that they would turn up for the Gathering. But they're not here. It seems pretty strange, doesn't it, Onestar?"

Mistystar murmured quietly, "Strange indeed. My senior apprentice was not in sight this morning, but he had been on guard patrol the night before. It seems that he has vanished into thin air. What if all the disappearances are connected somehow?"

Woah. This was getting interesting.

Someone from the crowd called out, "What about ShadowClan?"

We all turned to Rowanstar.

"Are any of your cats missing?" Mistystar asked.

Rowanstar glared at them in annoyance. "Of course not. My cats would never think of running away and abandoning their duties. And don't even think of accusing me for kidnapping them. I have nothing to do with this."

"No cat's accusing you," Bramblestar assured him. "But it does seem weird that cats are missing from every Clan except yours."

The ShadowClan cats began to yowl in protest.

"What do you think?" Scorchpaw murmured among all the racket. "Where did Moleclaw and Grasstail go?" He glanced at Silverpaw. "And don't even think about bringing up the Ghost Cat because right now, I'm serious."

"They could be in danger," I meowed. But my nerves were tingling with excitement.

Suddenly, in the midst of the cool, fresh night air, a scream pierced the island. The scream of a cat.

It jolted me to my feet and sent my tail bristling like quills. Featherpaw's green eyes were wide with fright, although she tried not to show it, and Wolfpaw had wrapped her tail protectively around her sister.

"Who was that?" I yowled in surprise. The crowd grew deathly silent as they glanced at one another in fear and confusion.

The leaders leaped steadily down from the branches, and the crowd parted to let them through.

"Is anyone hurt?" Mistystar asked worriedly. No cat answered her.

We followed, quiet and bristling, as we slowly neared the tree bridge.

"All of you, keep close to me," Scorchpaw whispered urgently. "The scream sounded nearby." I gulped and nodded, letting him take the lead.

The full moon glowed silently among the clouds. Its yellow reflection rippled on top of the water. Nothing seemed out of place at all, in the dark landscape of the night realm.

A gasp ran through the mass in unison. A few cries rang through the air.

Silverpaw's eyes grew wide. "What? What is it?"

"Stay back," Scorchpaw ordered, but we all ignored him and surged foward. The whole crowd of cats peered around the leaders, trying to see what was happening.

I squeezed through the gaps and stared in shock at the scene in front of me, barely believing what I saw.

It was Moleclaw.

He was sprawled out on the tree bridge, the tips of his paws touching the lapping black water, as if he was desperatley trying to escape from something and had all of a sudden collapsed.

His neck was torn open. Blood seeped down and mingled with the icy Lake water like a red streak. His eyes were impossibly wide, and with a start, I realized that he was still alive. His sides heaved as he fought for breath.

"Moleclaw?"

Bramblestar's voice was soft and hushed, like a queen murmuring to her kit. "Moleclaw, what happened?"

The dying cat gave no sign that he heard. His jaws were parted as he struggled to breath. The slick, wet gash on his neck glittered in the light of the moon.

"Someone get the medicine cat!" Rowanstar ordered in a harsh command.

The cats dipped their heads in sorrow. "No use. He is already slipping away into StarClan." At this, the crowd murmured and rose to a sad wail.

Bramblestar's voice was more urgent now. He crouched down in front of the tom.

"Moleclaw," he mewed softly. "Moleclaw, tell me who you were running from. I promise, your death will be avenged."

The tom stirred and stretched his mouth back to speak. A gurgle came out, followed by a stream of scarlet.

His eyes grew dull, and with a shudder, his flanks stopped heaving and he lay there, silent and unmoving.

I took a step back, my heart reaching out to the dead cat. I had watched him die. His eyes were still wide open with fear, but they saw nothing.

I lowered my head, along with everyone else, and felt the sadness stir the night air.

Wolfpaw whispered, "Moleclaw."

I didn't know who he was. The only thing about him that I really knew was that he was a Clanmate. But still, I closed my eyes and dipped my head, knowing that I should show some respect.

Bramblestar heaved himself to his paws and stared down at the crumpled cat lying there. The leader turned and surveyed the crowd that was mourning for his loss.

His amber eyes narrowed, and all of a sudden, he had turned into a vicious ruler, a cat with vengeance in his veins and with a will to seek revenge.

"I will find out who did this to my Clan," he rumbled dangerously. "And I will chase him to the end of the earth if I have to. Whoever was foolish enough to do this to one of my cats will pay dearly."

And no cat doubted his words.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The wind was raging and howling like a tornado outside, tearing up the eaves and making the chimney rattle in its sleep, but inside, it was safe. The yellow light from the fireplace wafted and melted into the furniture like soft butter. The wood sifted as the fire gnawed on its bones, and sparks flew and scattered like a handful of fireflies. A crackling sound of crumpled paper emitted from the orange flames as the wood simmered in the heat.

I never liked reading, but this time, I had an opened book of poetry poured out on my lap. It lay there, softly stirring its wings, slumbering away in its deep dreamland. I didn't care to glance down at the words, but somehow, I knew that it was the one that I always kept up on my shelf, the threadbare red one with the faded gilded letters on the title. Dog-eared pages. Paper that browned on the edges, as if it had gotten a nice peppering of cinnamon. Typewriter text that sometimes faded and appeared a few sentences later.

This wasn't my house, but I wish it was. It had a certain silence to it that I had always yearned for. Quiet. Asleep. Peace.

There was someone standing behind me. A cat, a pale soft grey one, with fur the color of the sidewalk after a morning shower, the color of a ghost fog, of mist, of sea breezes. The color of dreams. Her blue eyes were as round and bright as two shiny pearl marbles, of the same hues that were found at the bottom of unfathomably deep pools. They glowed with a gentle light. The fireplace flickered in their depths, the smooth, melting orange licking at the unpenetrable blue as they fought their silent battle.

She shimmered with each step she took, as if she was made out of nothing but clouds and stardust, as if those paws were light enough to walk on moonlight. When she breathed, the house exhaled, and every time she blinked, the curtains stirred softly with her. I wondered if this dream was her making. I wondered if everything in this dream was from her: the house, the fire, the rain outside, the ticking of the weathered clock on this mantelpiece. They seemed to be connected.

I licked my dry lips. "What is this place?" I asked her, although I was certain that I knew. I had been here before, once upon a time.

"Where you've always wanted to be, dear," she replied as she curled her tail contently around her transparent paws. Her eyes were half-closed.

The voice was a perpetual memory. Like birds twittering on a warm summer morning, or daisies bobbing in the breeze.

I shifted on the chair I was sitting on. The rain tapped on the glass. _Tap, tap, tap, _as persistent as the everlasting ticking of the clock.

That clock, I wondered. How long has it been running? Just recently? Or has it been working since the beginning of time itself, those two tiny needles of arms, running slowly, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, ticking away the years, unfolding time, sitting patiently on the mantelpiece like some age-old relic, gathering dust, seated there for centuries or milleniums, never ceasing, just keeping up the same steady, steady pace?

It seemed to me that the ticking would match the cat's heartbeat perfectly. The cat and the house were one and the same. I was in her dream, dreaming of her.

This house wasn't for me. It was much too warm, too comfortable. Why should I be here? This was an untainted room, like an unborn creature, unblackened by the secrets of the cruel world outside and still pure and white and untouched. Like a pearl, still concealed from the prying, greedy eyes of strangers and protected by the covering of its ridged shell. I felt like an intruder.

"I don't belong here," I told her. "Not me. Isn't this house for someone else?"

"No, child," she whispered. "I made this dream for you, and only you."

She arched her back and stretched. The walls breathed out of the pores in the cracks.

My stomach fluttered. "Who are you?" I asked.

"My name won't mean anything, at least not right away. But I have something to tell you. Something important."

The warmth was making me drowsy. She leaped onto my lap, stirring the pages.

"You've got a glorious future in front of you."

I snorted. As if.

Her gaze hardened into stone. "It's true. You are meant to be great. You will become so much more than you are now. Trust me."

"I'm not important," I mumbled.

The gales outside grew louder.

She waved her tail slightly, but became silent. Her eyes had drifted off into a dream-like state.

"I was the one who led you here, you know," she mewed at last. "I know your past. I know your future. But..." Her face flickered uneasily with some untold shadow. The eyes grew a bit dimmer. "...I need your help."

I huffed impatiently and shifted my legs so that she leaped out of my lap. "Then ask someone else. I'm just a girl. What do you expect me to do?"

"You will do things unimaginable, beyond the border of your most impossible dreams," she meowed. I jumped a little, for behind those words I heard another voice talking with her.

All of a sudden, the cat looked so old, so unimaginably old. But not withered or bent like a half-broken stalk. She was ancient. She had probably seen the world when it was only a tiny asteroid, watched it collide and morph and spin into a globe. She had watched the whole universe fold in front of her, in the beginning of time, in the beginning of everything. After all, she had put the clock there herself. Her heart ticked along with it.

"Stormpaw," she rumbled. Her voice was strong, not at all as delicate as before, as if she had some cavernous beast rising up from her chest and taking control of her tongue. The voice was powerful and thundering. It spoke of things long gone and things still yet to come. I couldn't do anything but stare and listen with awe.

She lifted her tail, and without warning, the room had disappeared. It left me floating in a black void.

Scenes flashed past me. I saw my mother, my father, standing hand in hand and smiling. It was a foreign sight to me. I wrinkled my brow, studying it.

The smiles lit up their faces with a golden light. Fair hair, loose, draped clothing fluttering in the wind like silk, captured in a quick half-second like a photograph. They looked genuinly happy. Peaceful, and glad that they were together.

Why weren't they like that back at home? Why couldn't I be there too, my hands clasped around their's, laughing along with them, standing together like a family without needing any reason to stand together, laughing just for the sake of it?

The scene disappeared and was replaced by a picture of me. It was the face I saw in the mirror, thin and sharp with cheekbones framed in curled russet hair. Dark brown eyes, hollow and unemotional. This was me.

I stab of sorrow wrenched my heart, followed by a flash of annoyance. The cat didn't know me. She didn't know that I was only Samantha Piper, a girl who was still afraid of the dark and the own monster swimming in my head.

The scene disappeared too, and was replaced by something so horrible, so dreadful, so blackened and despairing that I immediatley shied away and covered my head with my arms as if I had been struck. It was hurled at me with sheer force. It shattered my chest so I couldn't breathe. It wrenched my innards and squeezed them with unforgiving fists.

I remembered that scene, remembered it like a rotton piece of food sitting at the bottom of the trash bin. I wanted to forget it, to forget everything that happened that day. That day when-

From underneath my arms, I whimpered desperatley, "Please, take it away! I don't want to see it! I don't want-"

"Stormpaw."

That voice again. The voice of birdsong and memories. "It's alright. I'm here."

I cautiously opened my eyes again and found that we were back in the house. I was hunched over with my knees drawn to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth. I heaved a sigh of relief, but it still lingered at the back of my mind. It still crushed my chest, just a little.

The cat was there too. She was standing at my feet with a look of concern stretched wide over her slim face.

I snarled at her. "You see now? Look at me! You know what I'm scared of. You know the thing that's riding on my back, the thing that I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try. You know what happened on that day. You know what I did. Now you know that...that I'm useless."

I whispered the last word. It hung heavily in the air.

The rain was pouring harder than ever. I was half-afraid that it would pound the walls to dust.

She placed a paw gingerly on my leg. "Oh, Stormpaw," she murmured. "I've already known everything about you from the first time I ever laid eyes on you. And even now, I don't regret choosing you. I don't ever repent my decisions."

I hissed softly, "And what do you want me for?"

"You'll find out as you go."

She stood up and bounded a few steps away. Her legs began to glow and grow faint. Pretty soon, she had become transparent. I could see right through her.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, realizing that I might not get to see her again after she left. After a while, I blurted out, "I don't even know you! Can't you at least tell me your name?"

She laughed quietly. "Oh, darling," she purred. She paused abruptly, and memories flickered behind the sky-blue eyes. She closed them and smiled. "You know...Shadefrost used to call me Moon."

With a blink of an eye, she had vanished, faded away, as if she had never been.

OoOOooOOoOOoOOoooooooooooooOOo

"Stormpaw. Hey, Stormpaw." A different voice.

Someone was nudging me harshly. I grumbled sleepily and turned away.

The probbing in my shoulder continued, sharper than before.

I growled, "What do you want? You'd better have a good reason for waking me up."

I rolled over and glared at Scorchpaw out of narrowed slits of my eyes. His dark emerald eyes glowed in the dark. He looked concerned.

"I heard something in the night," he whispered. "Somewhere outside of the camp, in the woods. It was close by. I need you to come with me to investigate."

I growled moodily and squeezed my eyes shut again. The only thing I wanted to do right now was sleep.

"Go by yourself, then," I muttered.

"Stormpaw," he meowed. His tone was strong and unwavering, but I thought I detected a hint of anxiety to it. He wouldn't want me to know that he was afraid. That was Scorchpaw, brave and powerful and able to chase full-grown WindClan warriors from the borders with his own claws.

And yet, he was afraid, even if only a little. What was there to be afraid of?

"It might be the murderer," he said again.

That got my attention. I remembered now. Moleclaw had been slaughtered only a few days ago, running desperatley away from his unknown killer before collapsing on the bridge. I shivered when I remembered his neck, torn and bloody and glittering wetly in the moonlight, and his sightless, soulless dead eyes.

If it was daylight, Scorchpaw would be willing to trek out by himself with no problem.

But the night was dark.

I heaved myself to my paws with a defeated sigh.

"What about the others?" I whispered, nodding to the rising and falling forms of my companions.

Silverpaw was sprawled out on her back with her legs splayed out everywhere. She snored softly. One of her hind paws was caught on Wolfpaw's ear, but the dark grey she-cat didn't seem to notice in her sleep. Featherpaw slumbered away in the far corner, her pale fur blanketed by shadows.

Scorchpaw replied, "We don't need to bring everyone with us. Two's enough. Come on." With a flick of his tail, he had bounded away. I quickly followed.

A gust of cold air instantly buffeted my face and I shrank back, longing for the warmth of the den.

Scorchpaw had already bounded away. His shadow was long and gangly and seemed to dance in the light of the bright moon. His legs looked like spindly sticks.

"Wait up!" I hissed. He halted and allowed me to catch up to him, and then we set off again.

A ginger cat, sillhouted by silver moonlight, was nodding off next to the entrance. Crap, Squirrelflight was in charge of keeping watch for the night. How were we going to get out?

Scorchpaw made a sharp turn and beckoned to me with his tail. We kept close to the walls and slinked by the shadows on quiet feet.

Another gust of wind blew and whirled.

There was a hole in the gorse tunnel, just big enough for a kit to slip through. He crouched down and clawed at it gingerly, trying not to prick himself on the thorns. After a while, I bent down to help.

The dry brown gorse snapped and crackled as we broke it apart, and we managed to make a ragged hole large enough for us to slip through one by one.

I went first. Flattening my ears as my fur caught harshly in the crooked thorns, I managed to wiggle and tear myself free, and turned to wait for Scorchpaw to climb out after me. Then we set out, just the two of us, toward the great yawning mass of the darkened forest.

Our paws crunched on the undergrowth. The moon rode the illuminated silver clouds and rolled lazily across the sky like a giant gobstopper. It shone down with a dry, cool light onto the treetops below, making the leaves glow a misty shade of blue.

The place looked so different at night. Everywhere I turned, the whole word seemed to be encased in a shimmering sheen of blue and white and ghostly grey. It was a world covered with a thin blanket of crystal. Nothing stirred except for our paws in the dewy grass. Our eyes lit the path in front of us.

We seemed so small, and the trees were so huge and looming and towering. Nature's skyscrapers, oaken fingers just barely touching the corners of the sky, with the great giant roots clamped down into the farthest reachings of the earth.

"It's so quiet," I whispered, and broke off when I realized how tiny my voice was, as if the cold night air stifled it and broke it apart to carry it away.

Scorchpaw nodded. "The woods are magical. It's vast and silent and completley enchanting."

Our pair of shadows skittered along with us with spidery limbs.

I asked, "What was the noise you heard?"

"Oh. It was somewhere here." He nosed the ground. "Just in the woods. You don't see anything suspicious, do you?"

"The noise could have been anything. A bird maybe, or you were dreaming it." I glowered at the thought that he had woken me up for nothing, but he ignored me.

I nudged him impatiently. "Come on. Let's go back."

"But you don't know how serious this is." He turned to face me with a hardened look in his gaze. I stood up to his icy glare and fought against it with my own lighter green eyes, answering his retort, the two of us staring each other down, my sharp, flint-chipped jade fixed to his own deep, darker emerald.

He repeated, "This is important, Stormpaw. The murderer could be here."

I shook my fur in exasperation. "Alright then, fine. If this was so important to make you leap out of bed and go running to the woods in this hour, then you might as well tell me what the noise sounded like."

His ears folded back. "Well...it was high-pitched and ear-splitting. Quick and shrill, as sharp as claws slicing into fur. I don't know how else to describe it. Is there a word for it?"

"Crickets," I mused with a bored expression.

"It sounded like a scream," he concluded, ignoring my remark. "An awful, hideous scream. But I can't scent anything unusual." He tipped his head back and parted his jaws to smell the air, as if to prove his point.

I opened my mouth to reply but quickly shut it again when a pungent aroma whirled into my face with the wind. It was a mingled scent of old bones and rickety and hazel and the wilderness, of sharp teeth and wild golden eyes and short, shaggy red fur...

I whirled around quickly. My claws dug into the ground and my fur bristled when I spotted a shadow lurking among the trees.

I hissed, "Fox! Scorchpaw, get behind me."

And for a glimmer, I thought I saw the beast somewhere before, when-

"Ember?" Scorchpaw's eyes were wide with disbelief. "And Dewstep? What are you doing here?"

The vixen leaped in front of us in a graceful, fluid motion that spoke of years spent climbing mountains and venturing into unforgiving terrain. Her lean muscles rippled underneath her bright scarlet pelt. Dewstep followed close behind. Under the shadow of the moon, he looked like a crude, battered coat of armor with one too many scars. His amber eyes glinted coldly when he saw us.

He meowed, "We're patrolling the forest. Who knows, the killer might still be wandering around these parts."

He eyed me warily, and I glowered.

"You two shouldn't be out this late," he said. "What are you up to?"

I flattened my ears and looked away. "Nothing important. We were just-"

"I heard a strange noise in the night," Scorchpaw interrupted. "Did you happen to notice anything queer?"

"Nothing in particular." This time, it was Ember who spoke up. Her voice was liquid and quiet and subtly haughty. She caught my eye and I jerked back. I couldn't resist flinging a hostile glare in her direction. I didn't trust that fox, not one little bit. Her face betrayed no emotion, but I thought I detected a faint hint of arrogance. How was it that she could smirk even through her voice?

Why couldn't they see that she was dangerous? I eyed her powerful muscles. She could kill a cat with a single flick of her teeth. Was every cat in ThunderClan blind?

The vixen continued coolly, "But we'll keep a look out in case we find anything that might lead to the killer." She smiled warmly, but I still imagined her as a deadly cobra just waiting for the perfect chance to strike. The serpent tongue flickered in her venom.

Dewstep sat back and sighed wearily. "The whole camp has been a complete mess after the death of Moleclaw," he meowed. "Everyone is anxious. The queens won't even allow their kits one paw step out of the nursery. The Clan is scared and nervous, and I don't blame them. After all, the murderer could be anyone."

His amber eyes glowed fiercely with a sudden intensity.

"It could even be right under our noses."

I stiffened as a thought flitted into my mind. Ember was exactly like a ticking bomb just waiting to attack at the right moment. She was out of place here, a fox among cats. And her cold, calculating dark eyes that always seemed to be saying unspeakable things...

She flicked her bushy tail and caught my gaze with her eyes narrowed into slits, as if challenging me. The moon and darkness shrouding her made her seem even more ominous.

My eyes widened when the fact struck me with brute force. I backed away nervously and gasped in surprise, "Ember! _You're _the murderer!" My legs were weak. Next to me, Scorchpaw's fur was on end and his ears were pricked sharply on top of his head. His gaze was wide with disbelief.

For a few haunting seconds, the world was utterly and completely silent, as if it had forgotten to breathe. Time itself grew still.

And then the quietness was shattered abruptly by Ember's soft, lilting laughter.

I grew red underneath my fur with embarrassment. Was she laughing at _me? _

I growled hotly, "Stop it. Why did you have to kill him?"

"She didn't do it, Stormpaw." Dewstep stated matter-of-factly. He sighed in exasperation, as if he were dealing with a naive kit, and it made me more embarrassed than ever.

I stammered, "O-oh yeah? Prove it."

The expression on his face was that of pure annoyance and utter irritation. "I was with her that night. We decided to skip the Gathering, since the other Clans aren't very fond of her. We fell asleep next to the Tree of Promise at the Moonpool, and we even exchanged a few words with Spottedblaze along the way. Go ahead and ask him if you don't believe us. You can also go up to the Moonpool right now and see our paw prints embedded in the mud, as clear as day."

I felt like a fool. Falsely accusing an innocent Clanmate? Who does that? And I didn't even bother to stop and think. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I scolded myself under my breath.

Scorchpaw rested his tail tip on my shoulder as if he were trying to comfort me.

Ember's sides heaved with surpressed laughter and she raised her head to blink at me with warm eyes.

"I knew you didn't like me from the start," she grinned. "But I didn't know you would go as far as to point _me_ out as the murderer. And you looked so sure of yourself when you did. Pity, but unfortunately, you are wrong. I did not kill Moleclaw."

Dewstep huffed out of his nose as he stood up to leave.

"Pathetic," he snorted. "A cat who leaps head first into situations and who doesn't think twice about accusing her own Clanmates. Bramblestar made a mistake in bringing you in. And he even expects _me _to mentor you. You've certainly got a lot of things to learn before you even begin training along with the others. You've got a head full of nothing but your own image."

His words struck me harder than thorns. I flattened my ears in shame and lowered my gaze.

Glaring at me out of the corners of his eyes, he turned and beckoned to Ember with his tail. Then, in a strong, swift movement, he bunched up his hind legs and sprung away into the depths of the trees, away from us.

Before she left, Ember crouched down and whispered sympathetically, "He's not a bad cat. His words are just a bit coarse, that's all, and he can be a bit harsh toward the feelings of others. But don't let him hinder you. I think you'll make a fine warrior yet." And then, with a whoosh of air and a spring of well-excercised muscles, she sped off after him with her tail streaming behind her like a red flash of fire.

I didn't move for a few heartbeats but only stared down dumbly at my paws.

Scorchpaw nudged me gently.

"Hey," he offered quietly. "Don't let yourself down. Come on, the others will be wondering where we are."

I allowed him to heave me to my paws and guide me back to the den. My steps were slow and heavy.

My own mentor didn't believe that I could ever be a warrior. So what was I supposed to become?

OoOOOOOOOOOOOOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOoO

They stood side-by-side on the hill overlooking the territory. A faint breeze stirred their fur as they awaited the dawn.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Ember murmured.

"I don't want to talk about it," came the gruff reply. He was lying sprawled out on the course, springy grass, his head resting against the ground, his back toward her.

Silence, except for the stirring of the grass brushing underfoot.

Ember padded a few steps toward him and plopped down next to the dark grey form. A boiling anger emanated from him like the throbbing of a festering wound.

The fox wiggled closer until their fur brushed. He didn't move.

She rolled onto her back and faced the wide, wide sky. The night was a curtain of velvety dark purple and black. The stars twinkled and danced up in the heavens, a hundred miles from the earth. She raised her paw toward them. It seemed that if she reached high enough, she might be able to catch one.

The feline body next to her didn't stir.

"You know, Dewstep," she said quietly. "Lark used to tell me so many stories of lore that were passed down from generation to generation. Ones about the great and mighty fox, Sunfire, and other such fairy tales."

No reply.

"But there are other stories too, that were passed down from fox to fox. You've already told me so many fables of StarClan and the ancient cats. Now, I will tell you what the foxes used to tell me."

Silence from the tom.

"Dewstep. I need you to listen~"

"Mmph."

"Once upon a time, so many ages ago, the world was still new and nothing walked upon it. It was only a barren, rocky ball of dirt carved out of mist that floated in the midst of nothingness, traveling downriver on the current to nowhere. But it wasn't empty. At least, not really. Two beings watched over it, always, and they made the barren earth their home. They ran their paws over it to smooth out the cracks, and they brushed their fur over it to gather up the mist. They rasped their tongues and minds and eyes over every little crack and crevice to make the tiny ball of dirt clean and round and pure."

She paused to listen. Dewstep's amber eyes glowed in the darkness. He was lying on his back, looking up at the brightly spinning stars.

Ember continued, "The two beings shaped the ball into something so much more. They weren't earthly creatures, in fact. Their eyes glowed with a shining light, so bright and yellow and golden, as if they had two suns instead of pupils. They had magnificent curved antlers perched on top of their slender heads, and limbs made out of the stuff of moondust. Their voices, when they spoke, were indestructable melodies. Their hearts were the core of the earth. The elder being made mountains out of pebbles and commanded the rains to create oceans and lakes and puddles. She pounded the mud into clay and sand and crafted dens out of them, and for the dens, she carved tiny animals. From out of her own heart, she took a tiny speck of light and formed it into the sun, and she placed it in the sky so that she could see her creations."

Dewstep shifted and listened.

"The younger being took pawfuls of dust and scattered them over the surface of the earth," the fox continued. "When they landed, grass sprouted, and where the grass sprouted, trees grew. Whole forests breathed and came into existence. The younger being also turned the elder's rain into snow and ice and covered half of the earth with it, to balance out the heat and the cold. Half of the animals who desired snow fled up to the northern part, and the rest who desired warmth stayed in the south. Then from out of his own skull, the younger placed a piece of glittering stone onto the sky, opposite the sun, to light up his own creations and called it the moon. And thus, a perfect world was made. Everyone was content. The creatures were glad and full and the earth was always just right. The two beings watched over it carefully and held it softly in their paws, protecting and guarding it. They loved the earth. They loved everything in it, from the wandering spider to the lonesome wolf. And the beings were happy."

"There's a 'but' in there,"Dewstep meowed. "I can feel it."

"They wanted to make their treasure even more beautiful. So they decided to put a piece of themselves into everything that lived. For every animal that walked, slithered, oozed, flew, or swam, the elder and the younger took a tiny chunk of themselves and placed it into each and every one of their souls. It's very tiny, less than a sliver of hair, but it's there. We carry a part of the beings in all of us."

"Now, everything was supposed to go on peacefully. Day after day, the sun rose and the moon fell, and the moon rose and the sun fell. The snow in the north was the same cold as the day it was created, and the warmth in the south was the same as well. The animals lived and breathed and trekked and gave birth and populated every corner. The ball of life swiveled and turned on its axis. But...the elder began to grow bored."

Dewstep retorted, "I knew it."

"The love she had for the earth began to dwindle. How could she love the same exact things without change, day after day, year after year, century upon century, for thousands of years, for eternity? She wanted something new and interesting. Something that wasn't there before. The elder wanted to destroy the earth, wipe it out of existence, and create a new ball of dirt to clean and purify and start over. The younger was terrified and shocked at the idea. How could they destroy something that they had created with their own paws? He thought especially of the animals. The creatures carried a tiny part of the beings in their souls. It was a part of them, and they were a part of each other. So, he declared, it wasn't right to just end it without a second thought. The elder and the younger had two very opposing views, and they argued to and fro, but neither one of them backed down. While they fought, the elder's sun flared and burned so hot that it melted some of the snow and ice in the north. The younger's moon began to grow thinner and thinner each night, so that it transformed from a fat, round white sphere into just a thin curved sickle in the sky. The animals were frightened. The trees and grass dried up from the burning of the sun's wrath, and the north winds howled and stripped flesh to the bone with the cold moon's rage. The anger gave birth to storms and hail and terrible weather. Because the beings were constantly fighting without rest, the earth was neglected. The oceans churned and frothed mightily. The skies grew dark and grim. Lightning flashed and set the forests on fire; rivers spilled their banks and flooded deserts. One by one, the animals perished. Their souls turned into mist, but the tiny, golden part that had been given to them by the beings floated upward toward the sky, and they became stars. Only when the last night came, when the day turned into blackness and shrouded everything in shadows, did the two beings finally catch sight of the first star that glinted down on them. They recognized it as their own, and for the first time, they saw what had become of their beloved earth. It had been utterly destroyed and lay in ruins. The younger was enraged once again, and he lashed out at the elder for not trying to save it. The elder snapped back, and the two seperated and turned their backs on each other, vowing that they would never reunite again. The elder left. Just like that, she turned her back and went away, to no one knows where. The younger was left on his own. With a heavy heart, he was left in charge of the smoldering remains of the sphere. He tried to heal it as best as he could; he molded it and attempted to mend the cracks and make it whole again. But he wasn't enough. He needed the elder. One being wasn't enough to save anything, but still, he tried his best. However, no matter what he did, in the end, the earth was still crooked and twisted. It wasn't perfect any longer. Some regions were deathly hot, and other parts were freezing. The snow in the north and the heat in the south split into four seasons: the smoldering hot Greenleaf, the chilly and dry Leaf-fall, the cruel and harsh Leafbare, and the season of Newleaf that promised nothing but lies. Storms became more frequent. Rain was regular. Lightning always seared the surface of the earth. Some days, even the moon ceased to rise in the night. The survivors of the animals were corrupt, with not a single ounce of goodness left in their souls. The remnants of the beings had left them. The first lie was created, and then the first murder, and then betrayal, and revenge, and all of the other deadly emotions. The earth was filthy and tainted, and pure no more. In the end, the younger being gave up and fled."

"To where?"

"Nobody knows. The two beings were never heard from again. Yet, even though nobody watched over the earth and protected and helped it, it still managed to live on, even if just barely. The animals gave birth, and died, and then gave birth and populated the regions once again. Over the years, they lied and betrayed and killed and hunted, but they still lived on and on. And to this day, the earth is still here, populated by the children of the ancestors of the first. We still see the stars glittering above our heads, ancient remnants of the long-forgotten beings. Here we are today."

Silence. The trees swayed in the wind. The moon hovered, wrapped in its silver quietness. A fog hung about the trunks.

Dewstep sighed softly, but not with anger or annoyance. It was a sigh of sadness.

He muttered, "You told me that story to get my mind off things, didn't you."

He paused. "Thanks, I guess." A shrug.

Ember breathed softly and closed her eyes.

"So that story," Dewstep continued, "Do all foxes believe in it, like how the cats believe in StarClan?"

"It's as real as StarClan," came the reply.

"You don't even believe in the same things I do," he retorted.

"That's because StarClan aren't even my ancestors to begin with. But yes, every fox believes the two beings to be real. I do, too. It's the oldest story in the universe."

"Hmph." Dewstep's back was turned once again. His eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing became quieter.

Ember watched him, watched how his ears were folded against his head and his tail curled tight around his body as if he were holding himself and afraid of falling.

"You still think of her," she whispered. "You're sad, because of her. You didn't lose everyone in the War, you know."

The angry scathing was in his voice again. "Of course I'm not alone," he growled. "I've got you and Spottedblaze, don't I?"

The anger in his voice was real.

Ember was silent for a moment.

"Dewstep, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be. Don't ever apologize, not to me. You didn't do anything wrong. It was Fang who ruined everything."

He gave a shaky exhale of breath and calmed down a little. When he spoke again, the anger had evaporated and was replaced with something else. "It's just that...I don't know. I'm just mad at her because she broke her promise and left all of us behind. It's been years now. She's not coming back, is she? Not now, not ever." A shaky laugh. "She's forgotten us, hasn't she?"

"Dewstep..."

When he turned to face her, his eyes were wet. The amber strength in them had died out and now they were dull and pulsing. His ears were flattened against his head. In all the world, he felt like a kit again, scared and tiny and insignificant. He wanted to curl up and never wake up again.

"Is it really that bad," he whispered, "to miss her so much?"

"Oh, Dewstep," Ember murmured. She gathered him into her fur and wrapped her bushy tail around both of them. "Of course it's not wrong. I miss her too."

"I miss her. I miss everything about her, about the stories she told me, about our adventures together, about how we used to do anything and everything and fight together, side-by-side. I want those days back. Doesn't Shadefrost miss us too?"

When he gazed up at her with his sullen gaze, Ember thought that he really did look like a kit, a tiny defenseless kitten with no more strength left in his body. She wrapped him tighter, as if trying to cover him from the world.

"She's our friend, and she always will be. We just have to move on, continue with life. She's gone, but we will remember her."

"I'm sorry." Dewstep heaved himself up and quivered, his shoulders sagging like a tired old elder's, even though he wasn't more than a young warrior.

He sat back and looked up at the stars. "Right. All I have to do is to keep moving forward. No looking back." His voice trembled slightly. "Thanks for the story, Ember."

The fox raised her head to watch him leave, a bit startled from his change in emotion. "Where are you going?" she called.

"Back to camp. I have to be there in case the killer attacks again."

Her eyes softened as the dark grey shape disappeared down the hill.

She leaned back to gaze at the stars. They blinked back at her.

"He hasn't really changed, has he?" she whispered. "He still treasures his pack, where he belongs." She watched the moon. "Right, Scarlet?" she whispered.

Nothing answered her except for the distant hooting of an owl.

Ember exhaled slowly out of her nose and rested her head between her paws. _I still dream about them, _she thought, and closed her eyes to sleep.


End file.
